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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822  01608  66 


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(gwrg?     Julbr     (iinlb^n 

Founder  and  first   Big   Chief  of  th* 
White  Rats  of  America 


\  5ubIlol)cb  itttber  tfje  aitaplcca  of 

;  SIl|p    loarb    of    iirertora 

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;  New  ^Dck"19n9 


y^2xo  o)9f!fi  ^)2^ 
00*0  BVo  UoX> 

C$0P9ti9^t.    1909. 
of  tt)e 

(SiOA  C>lOC)  cJv£^ 

o)Sra  oioj^  tO^T* 


TAix  Volume  'torn  the  Press  oj 

BROADWAY    PUBLISHING    COMPANY 

Puk  Usher  s    &•    B  ooks  e  I  iers 

S35    Broadway 

Nrw   York 


©n  mg  hmv  fmnh 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

My  Lady  Vaudeville I 

CHAPTER  n. 
My  Lady's  Advancement 8 

CHAPTER  HL 
My  Lady's  Suitors i8 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Water  Rats  of  London 27 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Dromio 33 

CHAPTER  VL 
The  Nightingale 47 

CHAPTER  Vn. 

Mantwa 57 

CHAPTER  VHL 
The  White  Rats 66 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Original  Eight 72 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Spirit  of  Starland 82 

CHAPTER  XL 
Early  Trials 89 

CHAPTER  XH. 

The  Booking  Offices 95 

CHAPTER  XHI. 

Mantwa  Muses 106 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Vanity. • 1 14 


ii  CoNTKNn. 

CHAPTER  XV.  »AGE 

Some  Starry  Knights *••.••.  120 

CHAPTER  XVL 

The  Crisis , .•••••  129 

CHAPTER  XVn. 

Five  Per  Cent 140 

CHAPTER  XVni. 

Enter  Kendall 145 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Vaudeville  Bryan  and  "Cookie" ••  149 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Victory 155 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Jubilation,  Struggle  and  Strife 161 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  Glance  at  Barrymore 173 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Reconstruction 175 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Prospects  of  the  Star  Legion 180 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Exit  the  Fool 186 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Knights  of  the  Royal  Realm .«•.••••  194 


L 

THAT  was  an  inspiring  superstition  of  the  an- 
cient Greeks,  the  supposition  of  a  deity  or 
muse  presiding  over  each  branch  of  art. 
Under  its  influence  they  produced  the  most  beauti- 
ful works  the  world  has  ever  seen.  And  though 
thousands  of  years  have  passed  since  then  our 
artists  still  listen  to  the  echoes  of  those  Hellenic 
wonder  workers.  The  nerves  of  the  world  were 
less  racked  in  those  days,  and  the  perfection  of  each 
conception  was  a  work  of  joy,  inspired  by  hopes 
of  divine  approbation. 

Those  godful  skies  of  Greece  have  vanished,  we 
have  lighted  our  tallow  dips  on  her  stars.  And 
while  her  muses  have  slept  through  the  centuries 
we  have  spent  our  breath  and  energy  on  speed  and 
noise. 

It  is  time  for  some  satisfying  diversion.  And 
lol  into  this  clanking  age  of  iron  and  gold  a  new 
little  spangled  fairy  emerges,  and  methinks  I  can 
hear  the  notes  of  "Euterpe,"  "Melpomene," 
"Thalia,"  et  al,  in  her  still  undeveloped  voice.    She 


2  ^p  Laup 

is  ni}'  I.ady  Vaudeville.  She  has  grown  up  in  this 
new  world  and  knows  its  hetrogeneity.  She  has 
only  lately  been  anointed  by  those  dreaming  deities 
of  old,  so  you  may  call  her  an  accretion,  an  evolu- 
tion or  what  you  will,  because  she  did  not  burst 
forth  in  full  armour  from  the  brow  of  Zeus,  but 
evolved  and  grew  beautiful  through  the  ages.  Now 
she  is  growing  wise,  and  soon  they  are  to  crown 
her  with  the  laurel. 

We  are  all  players,  let  us  play  we  are  Greeks. 
My  Lady  Vaudeville  is  the  spirit  of  the  modern 
stage.  And  in  proportion  as  light  has  come  to  her, 
she  has  educated  her  followers  to  a  better  under- 
standing. Gifted  with  perennial  youth,  she  moulds 
herself  into  proportions  ever  more  beautiful  At  first 
she  inspired  only  songs  and  dances,  capers,  stunts 
and  antics,  and  then  gradually  tln^ough  the  years 
her  votaries  became  more  and  more  versatile,  more 
proficient,  then  aspiring,  and  now,  like  Undine  of 
old,  she  has  found  her  soul,  and  she  aspires  to  in- 
terpret life  and  dreams.  Opinion  differs  as  to  her 
origin  and  name.  Some  say  her  title  came  from  a 
valley  in  Normandy,  "The  Val  de  Vire,"  while  oth- 
ers contend  that  she  was  christened  on  the  banks  of 
the  Seine,  many  centuries  ago,  when  Napoleon, 
Notre  Dame,  and  what  we  now  call  French  history 
were  all  still  in  the  distant  days  to  come.  Her  Sire 
is  supposed  to  have  been  a  Fuller,  who  (like  most 
men)   took  his  name  from  his  occupation,  tliat  of 


l^auDetiille  3 

fulling  cloth.  His  workers,  each  evening  after  toil, 
gave  entertainments  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and 
became  known  as  the  entertainers  of  the  "Virevaude 
or  Vaudevire'*  or  "Vire  Vire."  However,  this  is 
all  conjectural  and  concerns  her  name  only,  her 
spirit  has  existed  since  men  and  women  first  began 
to  amuse  each  other  with  their  talents.  She  has  had 
many  names,  but  "what's  in  a  name?"  She  was 
born  to  please,  and  her  minstrels  have  found  their 
way  into  all  lands  with  the  gospel  of  laughter  and 
song.  And  while  her  tribe  has  increased  incalcula- 
bly her  spirit  has  evolved  infinitely.  From  her 
school  the  world's  best  stage  artists  have  graduated. 
Under  her  presidence  the  pulse  of  the  world  is 
learned.  Her  career  has  been  a  varied  one.  She 
came  to  this  country  in  disguise  and  served  us  non- 
descript diversion  in  smoky  halls  under  the  name 
of  variety.  (In  her  heart  she  is  a  masker.)  Her 
puppets  then  were  clowns  and  buffoons,  with  the 
eternal  exception  of  the  few,  the  mislabeled  few, 
who  are  always  everywhere  among  the  many,  who 
know  things  that  they  can  not  explain ;  they  know, 
and  are  therefore  unknown.  These  few  may  have 
read  the  mystery  of  her  starry  eyes  and  believed  in 
her  destiny,  but  their  names  are  "writ  in  water." 
Her  audiences  in  those  days  were  mostly  of  the  same 
calibre  as  her  entertainers,  but  as  she  improved  her 
fare,  new  pilgrims  came  with  softer  voices  and  more 
gentle  acclaim.     But  while  still  ambling  before  the 


4  #p  La0p 

Philistines  she  was  learning  our  ways,  and  studying 
how  to  wile  us  into  an  appreciation  of  better  forms. 
Those  were  the  days  when  some  people  used  to 
say,  "Your  gallery  god  is  your  best  judge  of  a 
show."  Now  everybody  knows  that  a  "Gallery 
god's  twin  deities  are  the  slapstick  and  the  bladder. 
However,  when  my  Lady  had  served  her  purpose 
under  the  name  of  "Variety"  she  reassumed  her  old 
French  cognomen  "Vaudeville"  and  a  palace  was 
built  for  her  in  Boston,  Mass.,  costing  more  than 
a  million  of  dollars,  then  she  tactfully  prefixed  the 
word  "polite"  to  her  name  to  lure  the  fastidious, 
who  accept  everything  as  per  label  when  once  it  has 
passed  the  approval  of  the  censor  respectability. 
And  as  this  class  lives  within  such  narrow  bounds 
of  convention  as  to  be  the  least  amused  of  all  the 
earth's  pilgrims,  if  not  the  most  bored,  they  are 
consequently  the  most  easily  pleased.  Therefore 
My  Lady's  advent  was  a  blessing  and  their  conver- 
sion easy.  And  as  clean  entertainment  is  most  pal- 
atable it  is  also  most  profitable.  So  My  Lady*s 
smiles  began  to  turn  things  into  gold.  And  rival 
suitors  came  a  wooing,  and  built  other  palaces  in  her 
name  and  she  sailed  along  on  the  placid  waters  of 
prosperity  for  years  as  "Polite  Vaudeville."  And 
now  competition  for  her  became  keen,  and  as  com- 
petition is  the  life  of  her,  she  became  beautiful, 
bright  and  clean.  Her  suitors  built  more  palaces 
and  became  rich  while  serving  her.     Her  jesteri 


l^auDetJflle 


abandoned  the  slap  stick  for  the  cap  and  bells. 
Everybody  began  to  recognize  her,  and  while  some 
people  came  to  see  their  favorites  from  the  Thespian 
Temples  play  under  her  banner,  they  remained  to 
be  amused  by  her  merry  Andrews  posturemasters, 
comic  singers,  dancers  and  reciters.  Soon  many  of 
the  elect  of  these  were  serving  in  the  so-called  legiti- 
mate theaters  and  becoming  world  famous,  while 
the  influx  from  these  theaters  to  my  Lady's  halls 
drew  a  still  larger  clientele  of  "desirables"  to  her 
palaces  and  the  fare  she  served  overcame  their 
prejudices.  Meanwhile  the  plot  weavers  sat  up  and 
took  notice,  and  the  best  of  them  have  now  forsaken 
Morpheus  o'  nights  to  dream  opened  eyed,  of  laugh- 
ter and  tear  compelling  episodes  to  be  played  at  my 
Lady's  festivals.  And  so  she  has  come  out  of  the 
depths.  She  has  evolved,  she  has  come  into  her 
own.  She  has  taken  the  drama  under  her  wing 
and  now  flings  you  forth  tabloid  forms  of  the  his- 
trionic art  between  the  lighter  essays  of  her  jesters. 
She  has  opened  up  an  undreamed  of  era  of  theatri- 
cal enterprise,  and  if  she  continues  to  advance  we 
may  see  in  the  near  future  all  the  best  forms  of  the 
drama  under  her  name.  She  is  not  in  competition 
with  the  drama,  she  contains  it,  in  all  its  forms. 
Tragedy,  comedy,  tragicomedy,  farce,  opera,  oper- 
etta, minstrels  and  specialty.  And  when  in  the 
future  you  enjoy  an  excerpt  from  the  best  of  each  of 
the  above  in  one  night,  under  one  roof,  you  may  be 


6  g^p  Ha Up 

sure  my  Lady  is  presiding.  The  times  demand  that 
she  reign.  The  age  is  rampant  for  speed.  You 
want  that  and  I  want  this,  and  someone  else  wants 
a  taste  of  all  in  one  night,  well  now  it  has  come 
about  that  my  Lady  can  serve  all  profitably,  and 
though  she  still  retains  her  light  and  airy  ways  of 
song  and  dance  and  laughter,  she  is  shriven  of  her 
stigma.  No  loss  of  dignity  now  to  play  the  greatest 
drama  ever  written  under  her  name.  And  once 
more,  "What's  in  a  name?"  What  boots  it  what 
we  call  her  so  long  as  she  has  grown  great  of  enter- 
prise? What  matter  whether  we  say  Vaudeville, 
Val  de  Vire  or  variety,  so  long  as  her  artists  be 
competent,  some  to  interpret  our  emotions  and  oth- 
ers to  divert  and  entertain  us  ?  As  we  grow  ripe  for 
better  and  higher  forms  of  entertainment  my  Lady 
serves  them,  and  will  serve  them  as  we  grow.  Her 
path  has  ever  been  upward,  and  against  great  odds ; 
she  has  drunk  of  the  dregs,  and  yet  her  spirit  was 
always  pure.  The  desire  to  please,  to  give  joy  and 
mayhap  make  us  forget,  this  is  the  spirit  that  ani- 
mated her  and  it  is  the  spirit  of  life.  Life  itself  is 
a  lethe,  otherwise  it  would  be  impossible,  hence  she 
is  part  of  the  universal  harmony  that  turns  worth- 
less things  to  joy  for  the  purpose  of  beguiling  us  to 
live  out  this  pilgrimage.  And  against  the  prejudice 
of  caste  and  class  and  the  anathemas  of  one-eyed 
bigots  she  has  somehow  managed  to  trip  her  light 
fantastic  way  to  the  top  of  the  mummers  Olympian 


l^auHetJille  7 

mountain,  and  is  now  destined  to  be  crowned  God- 
dess of  Theatredom.  Who  is  responsible?  What 
does  it  matter?  This  man  builds  a  temple  and  that 
man  teaches  by  precept  and  example.  The  Gods 
choose  their  own  instruments  to  do  their  work.  Men 
are  their  pawns.  In  this  man's  heart  they  put  the 
greed  of  gold,  in  another's  soul  the  love  of  fame. 
They  merely  use  ether  instead  of  steam.  They  fire 
the  brain  to  ambition  with  the  promise  of  heartsease 
in  the  future.  In  this  cosmos  there  is  a  love  of 
power  and  in  that  a  desire  for  contentment,  and  be- 
fore every  man's  eyes  is  a  phantom  to  lure  him  to 
his  work  and  his  destiny.  Each  man  builds  he 
knows  not  why,  but  thinks  he  knows,  so  the  work 
goes  on,  and  the  Gods  prevail.  My  Lady  is  a  God- 
dess. The  Goddess  of  Theatredom.  I  am  one  of 
her  votaries.    I  make  this  obeisance  at  her  shrine. 


8  ®p  JLatip 


II. 

ALTHOUGH  the  people  who  coined  the  cap- 
tion, "Advanced  Vaudeville,"  have  retired, 
they  have  given  us  a  term  worth  consider- 
ing.    The  term  "Advanced  Vaudeville"  is  a  large 
one,  because  of  the  wonderful  possibilities  it  sug- 
gests to  the  imagination. 

Considering  the  elasticity  of  the  term  "Vaude- 
ville," and  the  great  improvement  made  in  this  form 
of  amusement  in  the  last  few  years.  Vaudeville  ad- 
vanced may  be  construed  to  mean  an  entertainment 
composed  of  all  that  is  best  in  the  dramatic,  oper- 
atic, and  concert  fields;  in  fact,  in  every  field  of 
amusement.  It  depends  on  how  far  it  advances.  It 
is  possible  that  it  may  change  the  whole  present 
order  of  theatrical  entertainment  altogether.  It  may 
be  the  dawn  of  a  new  era  of  theatricals.  The  dis- 
contented playgoer  may  at  last  come  into  his  own. 
All  your  Ibsenites,  Maeterlinckers,  Yeatsmen  and 
Shawnees  may  at  last  have  their  aesthetic  appetites 
a[)pcascd.     Under  certain  conditions  it  would  not 


I^autietiille 


only  be  possible,  but  comparatively  easy,  to  make  as 
much  improvement  in  present  vaudeville  as  the  pres- 
ent vaudeville  entertainment  is  an  improvement  upon 
the  old-time  variety  show.  And  as  a  vaudeville  en- 
tertainment is  supposed  to  be  so  varied  as  to  con- 
tain something  to  please  everybody,  it  remains  now 
for  those  who  have  so  long  deplored  the  commer- 
cial part  of  theatricals,  and  who  have  argued  so 
strenuously  for  the  uplifting  of  the  play  and  the 
stage  to  grasp  this  opportunity,  and  see  to  it  that 
every  advanced  vaudeville  entertainment  shall  con- 
tain some  offering  of  that  high  educational  order 
of  dramatic  art  (albeit  in  tabloid  form)  to  which 
they  claim  the  drama  should  be  dedicated.  Once 
vaudeville  becomes  recognized  as  the  only  profitable 
purveyor  of  excerps  from  the  best  art  of  all  fields 
of  amusement,  and  its  interpreters  have  become  rec- 
ognized as  the  highest  class  of  artists — and  who 
knows  how  many  a  mute,  unconscious  Maeterlink, 
Yeats  or  Ibsen  may  yet  be  unveiled  and  encouraged. 
And  therefore,  those  who  believe  in  the  higher  pur- 
pose of  the  drama  will  find  in  this  erstwhile  de- 
spised medium,  this  very  frolicsome  fairy  at  whom 
they  pursed  their  lips  in  contempt,  the  only  pos- 
sible caterer  to  their  tastes:  because,  seated  in  the 
same  theatre  with  them  will  be  people  who  have 
come  to  see  another  portion  of  the  varied  entertain- 
ment. And  who  knows  but  that  some  of  those  less 
cultured  brethren  may  thereby  be  swindled  into  a 


10  Qip  jLaDg 

taste  for  these  so-called  higher  essays?  Grant  this, 
and  its  educational  function  is  settled.  But  the 
point  is  this:  that  Jones,  who  pays  his  money  to 
laugh  at  Ezra  Kendall's  monologue,  helps  to  make 
profitable  an  amusement  enterprise  that  also  caters 
to  Smith,  who  pays  to  see  Forbes  Robertson,  or  E. 
H.  Sothern,  in  a  scene  from  "Hamlet,"  or  Arnold 
Daly  in  a  Shaw  tabloid,  or  Junie  McCree..  in  a  char- 
acter impersonation,  and  vice  versa.  It  has  been 
said  that  "there  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men 
which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune,'*  and 
these  are  the  flood  tide  days  for  the  vaudeville 
artists.  Everywhere  there  is  tribulation  over  the 
fact  that  Klaw  &  Erlanger  have  retired  from  the 
fight,  and  so  there  should  be;  but  every  person  who 
earns  his  living  on  the  stage  should  encourage  other 
competition  for  the  future.  As  to  the  success  of 
future  competition  there  can  be  no  doubt,  and  here 
is  the  point:  With  competition,  everybody  wins — 
public,  performers,  and  all.  This  is  so  obvious  that 
it  seems  superfluous  to  state  it,  but  it  is  necessary 
to  state  it,  just  the  same.  The  performers  of  Amer- 
ica should  exert  their  best  endeavors  to  apprise  the 
public  of  the  fact,  that  vaudeville  will  only  continue 
to  advance  with  competition;  and  without  it,  the 
quality  of  the  shows  must  deteriorate.  But  as  Klaw 
&  Erlanger  have  quit,  whence  is  this  future  opposi- 
tion coming?  If  they  who  control  most  of  the  thea- 
tres in  America  have  failed  in  this  undertaking,  who 


is  going  to  succeed?    There  is  one  force  outside  of 
this  capable  of  coping  with  the  situation,  and  that 
force  is  in  possession  of  the  only  answer  to  the  prob- 
lem.   That  is,  a  circuit  of  theatres,  owned  and  con- 
trolled by  actors.    This  could  easily  be  accomplished 
by  co-operation  on  the  part  of  the  actors,  but  it 
would  take  a  little  time.     It  would  not  be  difficult, 
however,  though  it  seems  difficult,  to  make  the  ac- 
tors understand.    It  seems  difficult  to  convince  them 
that  it  is  just  as  easy  for  them  to  own  their  own 
theatres  collectively  as  it  is  for  them  to  own  their 
own  homes  individually.     All  that  is  needed  is  co- 
operation and  a  theatrical  investment  fund.     It  is 
not  necessary  for  them  to  try  to  be  managers.  Their 
inability  in  this  respect  is  well  known.     They  just 
need  to  own  them  and  to  control  them;  and  when 
they  do  this,  they  will  have  settled  this  question  for 
all  time.     Competent  managers  can  be  engaged  to 
work  just  and  earnestly  and  as  honestly  for  a  salary 
or  on  a  percentage  basis  for  a  co-operative  body  of 
artists  as  for  any  syndicate  or  trust.    And  with  five 
per  cent,  of  their  salaries,  a  few  hundred  artists 
could,  in  a  few  years*  time,  own  sufficient  theatres 
to  forever  preclude  the  possibility  of  any  syndicate 
eliminating  competition,  or  of  any  combination  of 
capital  menacing  their  welfare.     Each  artist  could 
receive  shares  to  the  amount  of  his  weekly  five  per 
cent,  in  the  fund,  and  when  a  theatre  can  be  pur- 
chased or  built,  they  can  buy  it  or  build  it.    Five  per 


12  ^p  JLaDp 

cent,  of  the  salaries  of  artists  playing  in  vaudeville 
this  year  amounts  to  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dol- 
lars— perhaps  millions — and  now  is  the  time  for 
such  a  fund  to  be  established,  though  it  should  have 
been  done  while  these  opposing  forces  were  fighting. 
This  plan  has  been  preached  to  the  actors  of 
America  for  seven  years.  Now,  they  awake  to  a  re- 
alization of  the  necessity  of  it.  The  public  should 
somehow  be  made  to  understand  that,  when  compe- 
tition ceases,  back  to  their  former  fields  will  fly  all 
those  big  attractions  from  the  drama,  the  opera,  and 
the  concert  stage,  and  yet,  under  the  conditions  of 
competition,  the  influx  from  these  fields  into  vaude- 
ville must  of  necessity  become  better  and  brighter. 
There  has  always  been  competition  in  vaudeville, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  some  of  the  Keith 
Houses ;  but  there  was  never  a  time  when  Mr.  Keith 
did  not  fear  competition,  and  in  proportion  to  such 
competition  as  he  has  experienced,  his  entertain- 
ments have  improved.  Ordinary  vaudeville  has  be- 
come so  attractive  that,  in  certain  cities  where  there 
has  been  no  competition,  the  public  is  inclined  to 
say :  "Oh !  Mr.  Jones  has  always  given  us  good 
vaudeville,  why  should  we  patronize  some  one  else?" 
When  in  truth  Jones  may  have  been  selling  them 
lemons.  But  the  public  is  usually  slow  to  learn.  It 
is  generally  wrong  about  everything  worth  knowing, 
especially  about  life.     Thought  has  ever  been  the 


l^auDetJille  13 

guest  of  the  few,  and  a  regard  for  truth  and  justice 
of  fewer  still.  That  is  why  the  paths  of  progress 
are  paved  with  the  bones  of  pioneers.  The  public 
loves  to  get  used  to  a  rut  and  remain  in  it.  It  is 
easier  than  thinking.  Most  people  are  credulous, 
and  will  always  remain  so;  and  these  vaudeville 
managers  who  have  had  things  pretty  much  their 
own  way,  so  to  speak,  in  the  last  few  years,  have 
gradually  educated  their  patrons  to  the  belief  that 
the  theatre  is  THE  thing,  and  therefore,  in  those 
cities  where  competition  has  been  eliminated  and  as 
there  is  only  one  theatre  where  the  public  may  enjoy 
vaudeville,  why,  of  course,  vaudeville  is  Jones'  thea- 
tre, and  Jones'  theatre  is  vaudeville.  The  theatre 
and  its  class  of  entertainment  become  identified,  and 
the  silly  public  never  stops  to  think  that  it  is  a  very 
clever  plan  on  the  part  of  an  unopposed  manager  to 
fool  it  into  the  belief  that  vaudeville  is  impossible 
outside  of  his  own  theatre;  but  the  moment  opposi- 
tion comes  upon  him,  he  rushes  to  get  some  real  acts, 
and  well-known  names.  Compare  the  quality  of  en- 
tertainment in  any  vaudeville  theatre  that  has  oppo- 
sition with  one  that  has  not.  Everybody  knows 
what  class  of  vaudeville  has  been  served  to  the  Chi- 
cago public  for  years.  Why  ?  Because  there  was  no 
opposition.  But  how  the  quality  changed  in  that 
city  the  day  Klaw  &  Erlanger  opened  the  Audi- 
torium with  opposition  vaudeville.  The  following 
are  the  acts  billed  to  appear  at  the  Majestic  Theatre, 


14  0^p  La  Dp 

Chicago,  during  the  week  of  October  13,  1907,  the 
same  being  the  opening  week  of  the  Auditorium: 

May  Irwin; 

Hilda  Spong  &  Company; 

William  Courtleigh  &  Company; 

Moto   Girls; 

The  Trenadians; 

Spessel  Brothers  and  Mack; 

Clarks  Hasardous  Globe; 

Jack  Wilson  &  Company; 

George  Austin  Moore; 

Corbrey  Brothers; 

The  Torettos; 

Adele  McNiel. 
The  salary  list  at  the  Auditorium  may  have  even 
exceeded  this,  but  did  ever  Chicago  present  a  regu- 
lar bill  of  equal  importance,  or  one  approaching  it 
in  excellence  before?  No.  Well,  then,  who  bene- 
fited by  the  opposition  ?  Obviously,  the  public.  But 
as  the  public  pays  little  or  no  attention  to  theatrical 
competition,  and  as  the  welfare  of  the  artist  depends 
almost  entirely  upon  it,  it  is  his  duty  to  educate  the 
public  to  the  importance  of  it.  No  one  will  contend 
that  when  a  corporation  or  syndicate  has  made  op- 
position impossible  that  it  will  expend  four  or  five 
times  as  much  as  is  necessary  for  its  raw  materials. 
The  history  of  all  trusts  and  syndicates  prove  the 
contrary  to  be  true.  In  other  words,  if  a  manager 
is  running  a  successful  vaudeville  theatre  in  a  cer- 


I^aunetjflle  is 

tain  community,  with  matters  so  fixed  that  there  is 
no  opposition  to  him,  and  no  cause  for  him  to  fear 
any  in  the  future,  will  he  expend  $4,000.00  per  week 
on  an  entertainment  when  he  can  fill  his  theatre 
nightly,  and  satisfy  his  patrons  by  an  outlay  of 
$2,000.00  weekly?  Will  he,  in  other  words,  make 
the  public  a  present  of  $2,000  worth  of  enter- 
tainment every  week?  Of  course,  he  will  not;  and, 
therefore,  when  competition  ceases  permanently, 
vaudeville  is  doomed.  On  the  other  hand,  under 
the  impetus  of  opposition,  there  is  no  telling  how 
far  vaudeville  may  advance,  especially  in  America. 
This  is  the  one  country  where  this  form  of  enter- 
tainment is  most  suited  to  the  general  taste,  because 
our  own  public  is  composed  of  all  nationalities ;  and 
in  a  high-class,  well-diversified  vaudeville  entertain- 
ment something  may  be  found  to  please  each  and  all. 

Each  European  nation  may  be  looked  upon  as  a 
large  family,  each  of  which  has  developed  more  or 
less  similar  tastes,  while  ours  is  a  nation  composed 
of  all  the  families  of  the  earth,  all  with  different 
tastes,  and  all  in  different  states  of  development. 
What  is  so  well  suited  to  them  as  vaudeville? 

But  let  us  consider  this  question  from  the  cultured 
person's  point  of  view. 

Six  years  ago,  in  an  address  to  the  Old  Playgoers' 
Club,  of  London,  England,  an  audience  of  dramat- 
ists, critics,  novelists  and  playgoers,  the  writer  pre- 
dicted that  the  day  was  not  far  distant  when  the 


i6  Qip  Ladp 

patrons  of  the  English  Mnsic  Halls  and  the  Ameri- 
can vaudeville  theatres  would  be  witnessing  a  fu- 
ture Henry  Irving  playing  a  scene  from  "The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,"  and  a  future  Dan  Leno  doing  a 
turn  of  comic  songs  on  the  same  stage,  during  the 
same  evening. 

In  the  debate  which  followed,  Cecil  Raleigh,  the 
playwriter,  made  use,  for  the  first  time,  of  the  term 
"tabloid  drama,"  and  it  is  almost  certain  that  the 
best  dramatic  works  of  future  authors  may  be  com- 
pressed into  this  form  of  offering.  They  say  it 
takes  months  to  play  a  Chinese  drama,  and  some- 
times two  or  three  nights  are  required  for  the  en- 
actment of  a  German  tragedy,  while  our  best  mod- 
ern American  and  English  plays  would  run  about 
two  hours  if  intermissions  were  omitted.  Then, 
why  not  the  real  masterpieces,  of  one  hour's  dura- 
tion, in  vaudeville?  But  we  must  keep  advancing 
Our  Lady,  in  order  that  she  may  discover  our 
genius. 

It  is  well  known  that  an  Ibsen  drama  cannot  be 
made  financially  profitable  in  this  country  at  the 
present  time,  the  reason  being  that  there  are  not 
enough  Ibsenites  to  support  it.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  plays  of  Maeterlinck,  Yeats,  and  in  some 
cases  of  Shaw.  Even  Shakespeare  is  said  to  spell 
financial  ruin.  And  when  you  stop  to  think  that  we 
have  only  one  or  two  actors  in  all  America  who  play 
these  higliPT  fnyms  of  the  drama,  and  of  the  thou- 


l^auUetiille  17 

sands  of  people  all  over  the  country  who  nightly 
enjoy  little  serious,  artistic  efforts  on  vaudeville 
programmes  the  opportunity  for  further  advance- 
ment in  this  direction,  seems  hopeful.  But  we  must 
have  competition;  and  now  it  seems  that  we  must 
make  this  competition  ourselves.  It  is  the  only  way ; 
it  is  the  sure  way;  and  it  is  absolutely  practicable. 
The  situation  is  in  the  hands  of  the  actors.  If  they 
have  the  courage  of  enterprise,  then  success  is  as- 
sured. 


i8  ®p  £aDp 


III. 

BUT,  as  has  been  said,  My  Lady  Vaudeville 
has  had  her  suitors  as  well  as  her  votaries. 
And  these  suitors  conceived  of  a  plan 
whereby  to  enmesh  her  and  keep  her  all  to  them- 
selves. So  they  wove  a  net  which  they  called  a 
Managers'  Association,  to  hold  her  in  corral.  They 
are,  however,  no  more  to  blame  for  so  doing  than 
the  sun  is  to  blame  for  shining.  The  merging  of 
kindred  enterprises  for  the  purpose  of  control  is 
the  natural  outcome  of  that  desire  for  power  which 
is  in  every  man's  heart  more  or  less.  It  is  merely 
the  necessary  modern  expression  of  man's  oldest 
impulse.  They  could  not  help  doing  so.  It  was 
to  be.  It  is  the  modern  commercial  way  of  things. 
But  these  suitors  or  managers  themselves  most  prob- 
ably do  not  know  that  they  would  have  been  power- 
less to  have  done  otherwise.  It  is  given  to  only  a 
few  to  know  that  we  are  all  pawns  on  this  checker 
board  of  nights  and  days,  else  the  game  could  not 
go  on.  The  eternal  run  of  the  universal  comedy 
would  be  at  an  end.     The  play  would  iiave  to  be 


l^auDeUille  19 

discontinued  if  we  knew  why  we  played  our  parts. 
We  know  ottr  why  but  do  not  know  the  great  why. 

And  so  these  gentlemen,  while  laboring  under 
the  impression  that  they  were  each  and  all  work- 
ing for  themselves,  were  really  beautifying  My 
Lady's  surroundings  and  causing  her  advancement, 
thereby  rendering  a  service  for  all  the  people.  But 
what  they  probably  would  not  admit,  and  perhaps 
do  not  believe,  is  the  great  assistance  they  have  had 
through  opposition,  or  the  greater  help  they  could 
have  had  through  co-operation. 

However,  there  is  no  criticism  for  them  here ;  as 
men  many  of  them  are  good  fellows  and  most  of 
them  are  men  of  high  enterprise  who  doubtless  think 
they  are  patient,  just  and  right. 

If  credit  were  a  thing  to  be  spoken  of,  unques- 
tionably to  the  late  Tony  Pastor  and  to  Mr.  B.  F. 
Keith  and  his  clever  lieutenants  should  go  the  palms 
for  first  making  My  Lady  Vaudeville  possible.  But 
Mr.  Pastor  operated  only  in  New  York  City  on  a 
comparatively  small  scale.  Mr.  Keith  built  her  first 
temple  and  swept  the  mire  and  slush  from  her 
pathway.  He  worked  hard  to  banish  vulgarity, 
slang  and  profanity  from  her  stages,  and  succeeded. 
He  brought  ladies  and  gentlemen  and  children  to  her 
temples,  and  served  them  with  clean  and  interesting 
entertainment.  So  also  at  nearly  the  same  time  did 
his  then  rival,  Mr.  F.  F.  Proctor;  and  shortly  after- 
wards, Mr.  Percy  Williams,  who  rejuvenated  My 


20  Qip  JLatJp 

Lady  when  she  was  growing  weary  of  reiteration 
and  the  same  old  grind.  He  brought  from  Europe 
a  new  influx  of  stars,  paid  them  enormous  salaries, 
and  succeeded  in  making  them  more  successful  than 
European  artists  had  hitherto  been  in  this  country. 
So  everybody  woke  up  and  took  notice,  and  My 
Lady  took  on  a  new  smile.  Incidentally  Mike  Shea, 
of  Buffalo  (who,  next  to  Mr.  Williams,  is  the  most 
popular  Roman  of  them  all  among  those  who  play 
for  him),  Hammerstein,  the  imperturbable;  Mr. 
Chase,  of  Washington;  Harry  Davis,  of  Pittsburg, 
and  all  those  managers  farther  West  readjusted 
their  field  glasses,  raised  the  ante  and  drew  cards. 
Drawing  cards. 

Who  benefited?  Obviously  the  public — the  per- 
former and  the  manager.  And  it  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  at  this  time  Mr.  Williams  did  not  be- 
long to  the  Association;  although  it  must  also  be 
admitted  that  since  the  reformation  of  the  associa- 
tion all  those  managers  have  continued  to  advance 
the  standard  of  entertainment  given  at  their  thea- 
tres (with  the  exception,  of  course,  of  occasional 
freaks).  But  then  again,  it  should  not  be  forgotten, 
that  while  their  entertainment  has  continued  to  im- 
prove, they  have  continued  to  experience  opposition. 
And  this  op]30sition  has  been  principally  one  man, 
Mr.  WILLIAM  MORRIS.  This  man  has  for 
years  pushed  a  booking  desk  up  against  millions  of 
dollars  of  capital  and  made  it  win  out.     Since  the 


l^auHetJille  21 

first  disruption  of  the  Association,  caused  by  the 
White  Rats  episode  eight  years  ago,  Mr.  Morris  has 
succeeded  in  either  keeping  these  managers  in  oppo- 
sition to  each  other,  or  furnishing  outside  competi- 
ton,  which  caused  a  continuation  of  advancement 
in  Vaudeville.  Before  they  all  rejoined  each  other, 
as  fast  as  one  of  these  managers  for  whom  he  did 
the  booking  would  be  lured  into  the  syndicate,  as  if 
by  magic  other  theatres  would  open  their  doors  to 
Vaudeville  with  Mr.  Morris  always  in  the  van. 
And  when  it  was  thought  that  his  last  shot  had  been 
fired,  that  his  last  manager  had  capitulated,  Lo! 
next  morning  the  public  learned  that  Klaw  &  Er- 
langer,  with  their  many  theatres  were  in  the  field 
arrayed  on  the  side  of  Mr.  Morris.  And  though 
this  powerful  syndicate  eventually  also  retired,  this 
resourceful  man  is  still  in  the  game,  fighting  harder 
than  ever,  with  many  theatres  and,  it  is  said,  with 
financial  resources  of  millions  of  dollars  behind  him. 
Surely,  both  the  public  and  the  performer  owe  him  a 
debt  of  gratitude. 

But  if  one  man  can  control  many  Theatres  and 
enlist  the  backing  of  millions  of  dollars  of  capital 
in  the  face  of  great  opposition,  why  is  it  that  many 
men  can  not  control  a  few  Theatres  when  their 
independence  and,  in  fact,  their  artistic  salvation, 
depends  on  it,  and  when  they  are  in  a  position 
to  collectively  produce  the  capital  themselves? 

But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  stage  people  of  Amer- 


22  q^p  jLaDp 

ica  stand  on  much  firmer  ground  than  would  seem 
even  by  the  above  statement.  They  have  an  organi- 
zation of  several  thousand  members,  "The  White 
Rats  of  America,"  with  experienced  theatrical  men 
at  the  helm,  capable  of  the  management  of  theatrical 
enterprises.  This  organization  has  stood  all  the 
tests  of  eight  years,  and  has  continued  to  grow  and 
profit  by  its  experience.  It  is  now  in  a  position  to 
co-operate  with  the  citizens  of  any  city  in  the  United 
States  in  the  control  and  management  of  Vaudeville 
Theatres,  and  it  is  well  known  that  in  nearly  every 
city  in  America  there  are  men  who  would  be  anxious 
to  invest  in  such  profitable  enterprises  were  they  not 
afraid  of  the  power  of  Vaudeville  monopoly,  or  if 
they  could  be  assured  of  not  being  handicapped  in 
the  securing  of  talent.  And  this  assurance  The 
White  Rats  of  America  are  now  in  a  position  to 
give,  as  well  as  to  prove  the  practicability  of  theat- 
rical co-operation.  The  plan  of  which  is  simple  in 
the  extreme.  The  members  of  the  White  Rats  by 
paying  into  their  own  accounts  a  certain  percentage 
of  their  earnings,  which  they  have  heretofore  paid 
for  booking  purposes  (but  which,  under  this  ar- 
rangement, they  receive  shares  for)  would  produce 
a  constantly  growing  fund  to  be  used  in  the  pur- 
chase of  51  per  cent,  of  the  shares  of  Theatres  in 
different  cities.  This  majority  of  shares  in  each 
enterprise  would  forever  preclude  the  possibility 
of  Vaudeville  monopoly  and,  by  giving  the  actors 


l^auDem'lIe  23 

control  of  their  own  Theatres,  prevent  the  merging 
of  opposite  interests  which  invariably  tend  to 
threaten  their  salaries  and  advancement ;  and,  as  the 
membership  of  the  White  Rats  comprise  or  control 
nearly  all  the  leading  acts  on  the  Vaudeville  stage 
in  the  United  States  and  Europe  (it  must  be  re- 
membered that  they  are  affiliated  with  all  the  theat- 
rical organizations  of  Europe),  they  are  in  a  posi- 
tion to  guarantee  those  managers  and  citizens  with 
whom  they  co-operate  a  supply  of  talent  at  least 
equal  to  that  which  any  opposition  can  possibly 
secure.  It  is  not  intended  that  the  organization 
would  run  the  Theatres,  they  would  merely  control 
them  for  the  purpose  of  their  own  protection. 

The  management  or  directorate  of  each  Theatre 
would,  by  agreement,  have  full  power  to  run  their 
own  Theatres  in  their  own  way,  so  long  as  they 
gave  clean  and  intellectual  entertainment,  and  at  the 
same  time  have  access  to  advice  from  the  Theatrical 
experts  of  the  directorate  of  the  organization.  Be- 
sides, the  natural  sentiment  that  favors  co-operation 
as  opposed  to  monopoly,  the  home  directors  of  the 
Theatres  and  shareholders  of  same  in  each  city 
would  have  their  following  and  influence,  and  be 
able  to  get  their  side  of  the  argument  to  the  Vaude- 
ville patrons  of  their  own  communities,  and  thereby 
obviate  the  handicap  that  strangers  sometimes  suf- 
fer when  investing  capital  in  new  territory,  where 
they  are  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  invaders  when 


24  0ip  JlaDp 

they  enter  in  opposition  to  the  established  order 
of  things  Theatrical.  While  the  responsibility  of 
selecting  the  talent  being  removed  from  the  organi- 
zation to  the  home  management  would  do  away  with 
any  cause  for  friction  or  internecine  strife  in  the 
organization  as  regards  favoritism,  partiality  or 
prejudice  in  the  booking  of  acts.  This  idea  has  been 
constantly  preached  by  the  present  writer  to  the 
Vaudeville  artists  of  America  for  the  last  eight 
years.  It  was  one  of  the  first  ideas  promulgated 
after  the  inception  of  the  order.  It  has  now  taken 
root  and  will  blossom,  but,  people  on  the  outside 
are  now  trying  to  do  the  very  same  thing  with  no 
organization  behind  them  whatsoever.  Theatrical 
co-operation  between  the  Actor-Manager  and  play- 
goer must  come  about. 

It  is  the  natural  culmination  of  the  commercial 
trend  of  stage  affairs  that  has  evolved  through  many 
years.  Trusts,  Syndicates  and  Managers'  associa- 
tions merely  pave  the  way. 

Even  outside  of  the  theatrical  firmament  in  tlic 
great  affairs  of  earth,  co-operation  between  so-called 
masters  and  men  it  is  also  coming  about.  It  is  so 
written  in  the  book  of  the  world.  Surely  it  is  time 
to  consider  it  seriously  when  so  great  an  author- 
ity as  Andrew  Carnegie  in  his  new  book  "Problems 
of  To-day"  gives  it  as  the  final  solution  this  side  of 
socialism.  The  January  World's  Work  Magazine 
in  quoting  from  Mr.  Carnegie's  book  calls  it  a  re- 


markable  forecast  of  the  continued  improvement  in 
the  position  of  labor,  till  profit  sharing  does  its  per- 
fect work  and  the  laborer  and  the  capitalist  become 
the  same  man.  Mr.  Carnegie  says  "The  joint-stock 
form  opens  the  door  to  the  participation  of  labor  as 
shareholder  in  every  branch  of  business.  In  this  the 
writer  beHeves,  says  he,  Hes  the  final  and  enduring 
solution  of  the  labor  question.  Nothing  can  stand 
against  the  direct  management  of  owners.  We  are 
only  pioneers  whose  duty  is  to  start  the  move- 
ment, leaving  to  our  successors  its  full  and  free 
development  as  human  society  advances.  He  tells 
of  the  beginnings  made  by  the  Carnegie  Steel  Com- 
pany many  years  ago  by  making  from  time  to  time 
forty-odd  young  partners,  who  paid  for  their  in- 
terest in  the  business  by  their  notes,  payable  only 
out  of  the  profits  of  the  business.  And  he  points 
out  that  just  as  the  mechanical  world  has  changed 
and  improved,  so  the  world  of  labor  has  advanced 
from  the  slavery  of  the  laborer  to  the  day  of  his 
absolute  independence,  and  now  to  this  day,  when 
he  begins  to  take  his  proper  place  as  "the  capitalist- 
partner  of  his  employer.  We  may  look  forward 
with  the  hope  to  the  day  when  it  shall  be  the  rule  for 
the  workman  to  be  partner  with  capital."  Mr.  Car- 
negie also  quotes  the  great  sociologist  and  philoso- 
pher, John  Stuart  Mill,  as  follows :  "The  form  of 
association,  however,  which,  if  mankind  continue  to 
improve,  must  be  expected  in  the  end  to  predomi- 


g^        gig  Lang 

nate,  is  not  that  which  can  exist  between  a  capitalist 
as  chief  and  work-people  without  a  voice  in  the 
management,  but  the  association  of  laborers  them- 
selves on  terms  of  equality,  collectively  owning  the 
capital  with  which  they  carry  on  their  operations^ 
and  working  under  managers  elected  and  removable 
by  themselves."  This  is  the  same  idea  that  the  writer 
of  the  present  book  has  for  many  years  been  trying 
to  apply  to  the  theatrical  profession  for  the  purpose 
of  removing  it  from  the  control  of  syndicates  and 
placing  it  in  the  joint  control  of  the  playgoer  and 
performer.  And  until  this  plan  is  consummated 
and  in  working  effect  no  great  progress  can  be  made. 
And  as  the  suggestion  does  not  come  from  the 
managers,  it  is  up  to  the  Actors.  It  is  their  move. 
The  situation  is  in  their  hands.  All  they  need  is 
the  courage  of  enterprise.  For  surely  it  must  be 
clear  to  them,  that  neither  Mr.  William  Morris  nor 
any  other  successful  independent  manager  could 
hope  to  succeed  were  they  not  assured  of  the  sup- 
port and  encouragement  of  My  Lady  Vaudeville, 
for  keeping  open  competition  in  her  Temples.  Who 
is  My  Lady  Vaudeville?  As  has  been  said,  she  is 
destined  to  become  the  goddess  of  Theatredom.  She 
had  lighted  her  torch  on  the  highest  hill.  Who 
are  her  subjects?  They  are  members  of  an  organ- 
ization known  as  The  White  Rats  of  America,  the 
history  of  which  same  society  the  following  story 
aims  faithfully  to  record. 


IPauDctiiUe  27 


IV. 

^  ^  iy  yr  AKE  me  drunk,  and  have  lots  of  fun 

i  T  I       ^^^^  "^^'  '^^^^ '"  ^'^^^  ^^^  young  man 
who  had  just  been  put  through  the 
initiation.     "Make  me  drunk,  and  have  lots  of  fun 
with  me,  because  I  am  here  at  your  service !" 

A  yell  of  laughter  from  a  crowd  of  good  fellows 
assembled  together  in  a  lodge  room,  many  years  ago, 
in  London,  England,  was  the  spontaneous  response 
to  the  above  remark,  which  was  made  in  a  speech 
of  thanks  by  the  newly  initiated  member  into  the 
Grand  Order  of  Water  Rats.  Great  hilarity  had 
been  caused  in  putting  him  through  the  initiation, 
which  was  full  of  the  usual,  harmless  fun  of  good 
fellowship,  the  overessence  of  high-flowing  spirits 
and  merry  hearts.  And  now  the  "making"  was 
over,  and  the  newly  made  brother  was  called  upon 
for  a  speech.  He  was  a  tall,  straight-backed  youth, 
with  wavy  hair  and  deep  set  eyes.  His  knock  knees 
and  large  feet  had  called  forth  many  witty  remarks 
by  the  members,  and  caused  great  fun  while  he  was 
being  put  through  the  postures  incident  to  the  ritual 


28  ^p  jLaDp 

of  initiation.  "Make  me  drunk,  and  have  lots  of 
fun  with  me,"  said  he,  "for,  now  that  I  am  jf  you, 
I  want  to  be  zvith  you,  and  I  hope  to  be  of  you  a 
long  tims,  and  I  wish  to  be  zvith  you  all  the  time  that 
I  am  of  you.  Everybody  is  more  or  less  laughable, 
if  we  oi.ly  knew  it.  To-night  is  my  turn.  We  will 
laugh  to-night  at  me,  and  everybody  is.  also  drunk 
with  something:  Some  with  power,  some  with 
gold,  some  with  fame,  some  with  their  own  self-im- 
portance. I  have  been  too  sober' for  a  long  time,  so 
make  me  drunk  with  the  spirit  of  yours,  and  have 
lots  of  fun  with  me." 

Of  course,  the  speaker  was  joking,  conscious  of 
his  own  physical  irregularities,  he  was  neverthe- 
less capable  of  laughing  good  nature'dly  at  his  lack 
of  symmetrical  proportions,  and  so  he  joined  in  the 
fun  with  great  glee,  and  said :  "That's  right,  boys, 
make  me  drunk,  and  have  lots  of  fun  with  me !" 

His  aptness  to  catch  their  whims,  and  laugh  with 
them  at  himself,  made  a  good  impression  with  the 
merry  little  coterie  of  Bohemians,  and  he  was  voted 
a  good  fellow  by  all  the  members.  But  though  he 
spoke  in  jest,  the  gods,  who  are  better  jokers  than 
mortals,  heard  his  speech,  and  answered  his  plea. 
For  it  was  in  this  same  fraternal  hall  that,  all  un- 
consciously, he  was  made  drunk  with  a  new  spirit 
and  purpose  in  life;  and  it  was  among  these  same 
light-hearted  merry  makers  that  his  ears  were  given 
to   drink   of   a   wonderful,   mystical  song,   and  his 


l^auDetJflle  29 

heart  to  feed  on  the  hope  that  was  born  on  Her- 
mon's  Holy  Hill. 

The  Grand  Order  of  Water  Rats  was  a  little  so- 
ciety of  Music  Hall  Artists,  numbering  at  this  time 
about  forty  members.  Twelve  of  them  had  at  first 
drifted  together  through  the  circumstance  of  each 
having  won  several  sovereigns  on  the  speed  per- 
formances of  a  little  race  horse  called  "The  Water 
Rat"  (as  James  Finney,  the  then  champion  swim- 
mer, was  also  facetiously  called),  and  from  which 
said  pony  they  took  their  name.  The  pony  was 
owned  by  Joe  Elvin  and  Jack  Lotto,  and  this  twain 
had  previously  apprised  their  confreres  of  the  ad- 
visability of  getting  "on"  when  he  ran.  And  so 
when  the  "good  thing"  "came  off,"  or,  rather,  when 
the  good  pony  came  in,  they  all  met  to  celebrate  the 
event,  and  from  this  germ  grew  their  Order.  Meet- 
ings, which  at  first  were  casual,  became  regular; 
feelings,  at  first  convivial,  had  become  fraternal. 
Other  members  of  the  profession  were  permitted  to 
join,  the  qualifications  being  high  standing  as  a 
good  fellow,  and  recognition  as  an  artist  playing  the 
"Halls"  of  London.  But  quite  conservatively  did 
they  take  in  these  new  members.  One  objection  by 
any  member,  even  with  no  reason  given,  constituted 
disqualification  of  a  proposed  candidate.  Hence, 
they  were  all  friends,  and,  oh!  what  merry-hearted 
gentlemen  they  were,  to  be  sure !  How  generous  to 
their  less  fortunate  brothers  of  the  outer  world! 


How  happy  in  each  other's  society!  How  charit- 
able to  each  other's  faults!  Joe  Elvin,  Dan  Leno, 
Wal  Pink,  Jack  Lotto,  Paul  Martinetti,  and  some 
half  dozen  others,  at  first;  and  then  came  Gene 
Stratton,  Paul  Cinquivalli,  Little  Tich,  R.  G. 
Knowles,  Tennyson  &  O 'Gorman,  Jim  Maco,  Will 
Oliver,  and  the  rest,  till  they  numbered  nearly  a 
half  hundred  in  a  few  years.  All  Stars  In  the  merry 
world  of  Make  Believe!  All  geniuses  of  laughter 
and  song,  and  all  boys — just  boys — forever!  To 
remain  young  is  to  be  great,  and  it  was  a  great  mo- 
ment when  these  merry  fellows,  who  used  to  make 
the  best  and  worst  of  foggy  old  London,  laugh  and 
forget,  set  apart  a  night  to  meet  each  other  and  re- 
gale, for  they  soon  began  to  study  plans  for  the  bet- 
terment of  their  conditions,  and  the  assistance  of 
those  of  their  calling  who  were  in  need ;  and,  al- 
though they  were  exclusive  and  small  in  numbers, 
they  were  now  a  great  fraternity  nevertheless.  Soon 
they  had  rules  of  order,  by-laws,  etc.,  and  all  the 
paraphernalia  and  ceremonials  necessary  to  a  de- 
liberate assembly,  as  well  as  the  spirit  that  goes  to 
make  Brotherhood.  Wal  Pink  was  a  word-wizard, 
who  had  all  London  singing  his  songs  and  laughing 
at  his  farces.  He  wrote  them  a  fitting  ritual,  filled 
with  wit  and  song,  and  just  enough  of  the  oversoul 
for  some  fellow  to  come  along  and  understand ;  and 
this  fellow  came  along.  They  remained  exclusive, 
not  through  pride,  but  because  they  knew  their  pro- 


l^auDetJille  31 

fession,  and  they  preferred  to  go  slow  and  be  sure. 
This  naturally  quickened  the  desire  of  others  to  join 
them.  Such  are  the  ways  of  men.  It  is  always  Ma- 
homet and  the  Mountain  over  again.  The  founders 
were  real,  and  other  real  followers  came  knocking 
at  their  gates,  and  were  taken  into  the  fold.  Of 
course,  there  were  exceptions,  but  no  emergency 
could  arise  to  make  them  careless  lest  they  court 
disaster.  Primarily,  there  are  no  effete  or  factitious 
aristocracies.  A  few  real  fellows  have  started 
everything  that  is  wholesome  and  lasting  in  the 
world;  and,  whether  it  be  a  little  society  or  a  great 
republic;  whether  it  be  a  kingdom  or  a  religion,  it 
remains  great  only  so  long  as  the  original  spirit 
pervades  it. 

All  of  Christianity  that  is  real  is  Christ — bare 
headed,  bare  hearted,  and  in  bare  feet  beneath  the 
stars;  the  rest  is  mockery.  Moses  is  all  Judaism. 
All  that  is  real  in  our  own  republic  was  put  in  the 
Declaration  and  Constitution,  and  a  few  strong  men 
have  preserved  society  during  all  times.  But  whether 
we  are  great  republics,  or  little  Bohemian  societies, 
whom,  to  take  seriously,  seems  incongruous,  we  are 
still  all  men  and  women,  and  our  affairs  are  inter- 
esting in  proportion  to  our  nearness  to  each  other, 
and  as  we  are  all  fools,  most  partial  and  patient  to 
our  own  kind,  when  we  know  them,  let  us  under- 
stand that  in  this  same  gay  footlight  realm  of  wink- 
ing eyes  and  twinkling  feet,  there  are  great-hearted 


32 


®p  JLaup 


gentlemen  who  saunter  through  Hfe  in  the  garb  of 
motley,  and  such  were  the  founders  of  the  Grand 
Order  of  Water  Rats  of  London,  England;  and 
such  was  their  condition  on  the  night  when  our 
young  man  who  laughed  at  himself  joined  them. 


•t^ 


Til  10  Dromio. 


l^autietJille  33 


01j^  Br^mui. 

V. 

THIS  young  fellow  was  a  curious  mixture  of 
many  contradictions.  He  was  about  twen- 
ty-two years  of  age.  He  performed  in  the 
Music  Halls.  He  called  himself  a  mountebank, 
even  in  after  years  when  he  achieved  a  certain  suc- 
cess. Had  you  asked  him  his  status  in  the  world, 
he  would  have  answered  you  with  one  word, 
"Mountebank."  So  we  will  call  him  Dromio,  Fool, 
Busker,  Punchinello,  or  what  not.  He  was  an 
American,  from  somewhere  in  Michigan.  His 
father's  people  were  from  Vermont,  and  it  was 
said  their  forbears  had  arrived  on  the  Mayflower. 
His  mother's  people  were  Irish,  which,  perhaps,  ac- 
counts for  the  dualism  of  his  nature,  his  violent  im- 
petuosity, his  despondency,  his  ardent  hopes,  his 
laughter,  his  blank  despair,  his  tolerance,  his  im- 
patience, and  all  the  other  infections  of  the  blood 
which  fate  instills  into  the  veins  of  her  human  play- 
things to  make  them  dance  in  the  merry-go-round 
of  life.  But  whatever  may  have  been  his  natal 
qualities,  his  early  environment  moulded  him  into  a 


34 Q^g  Lang 

vagabond.  His  youth  was  spent  among  bootblacks 
and  newsboys,  instead  of  at  school,  and  he  never 
afterwards  learned  to  be  quite  respectable.  The  in- 
dustrial community  where  his  early  boyhood  was 
spent  was  composed  of  artisans  from  every  clime. 
It  was  also  at  that  time  a  Mecca  for  crooks  of  every 
calibre — bad  men  from  all  over  the  world,  refugees, 
fugitives,  outcasts — a  thousand  or  more  of  them  in 
a  little  boom  town  of  twenty-odd  thousand  inhabi- 
tants. Dromio  fraternized  with  them  all,  and 
learned  their  wiles  and  ways.  He  sang  and  danced 
for  them  at  the  Free  and  Easy  Halls.  Before  he 
was  fourteen  he  knew  every  trick  and  lure  of  the 
nether  world.  However,  being,  as  he  often  said 
afterwards,  a  natural  born  fool,  he  never  learned 
to  be  a  knave.  He  could  neither  rob  men  nor  judge 
them.  He  could  not  understand  how  men  could  do 
so,  and  perhaps  that  is  just  why  men  could  never 
understand  him.  He  was  a  natural  mimic,  and  could 
imitate  with  equal  facility  the  dialects  (.>f  the  Swedes 
who  worked  in  the  sawmills  and  built  the  ships  on 
the  river,  or  the  English,  Scotch,  Welsh  and  Irish 
boilermakers,  blacksmiths  and  moulders,  who  made 
the  machinery  for  the  ships  and  mills,  or  the  French 
Canadians,  who  cut  down  the  pine  trees  in  the  woods 
during  the  winter,  and  drove  the  logs  down  the 
river  in  the  springtime.  He  had  had  very  little 
schooling.  His  mother  died  when  he  was  four  years 
of  age.     His  father,  a  busy  man  who  had  married 


l^auDetJille  35 

again,  sent  him  to  school,  but  he  did  not  go  very 
often,  yet  he  learned  to  read  and  write,  and  that 
constituted  about  all  of  his  schooling.  He  excelled 
at  swimming,  rowing,  and  skating,  and  could  box. 
On  the  sawdust  heaps,  beside  the  lumber  mills,  he 
learned  to  be  an  acrobat  and  contortionist.  He 
could  execute  any  kind  of  a  step  dance,  and  pos- 
sessed a  good  singing  voice.  In  short,  at  fourteen 
years  of  age  he  knew  everything  that  a  wild  harum 
scarum  boy  delights  in,  instead  of  wiser  things  that 
he  should  have  learned.  And  it  was  with  this  stock 
in  trade,  at  this  age,  that  he  ran  away  from  home 
and  became  a  tramp  and  a  mountebank.  He  wan- 
dered all  over  the  United  States,  beating  his  way  on 
trains,  and  mixing  with  all  classes  of  wanderers. 
He  followed  the  county  fairs  and  the  races;  he 
joined  circuses;  became  a  circus  clown,  leaper  and 
tumbler;  he  made  the  announcements  in  the  ring, 
and  performed  in  the  concerts.  Then  he  became  a 
negro  minstrel,  an  actor  in  plays ;  then  a  performer 
on  the  variety  stage.  Before  he  was  twenty  years 
of  age  he  had  gained  some  reputation  on  the  variety 
stage  with  a  little  partner  named  Quigg. 

He  began  to  write  songs  and  little  sketches  for 
the  varieties,  and,  though  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
laws  of  music  or  metre,  they  were  generally  suc- 
cessful. Up  till  now  he  has  never  read  a  book, 
never  seen  a  great  play,  or  an  opera.  He  had  never 
heard  a  sermon  or  an  oration.    He  had  never  heard 


36  9d^  LaDj? 

a  great  poem  recited.  He  had  never  been  in  a  pic- 
ture gallery,  or  been  taught  anything  directly  by  any- 
body. Yet  he  became  ambitious,  and  began  to  read 
books,  and  his  chums  said  he  had  gone  mad.  They 
cited,  as  absolute  proof  of  his  mental  unbalancing, 
that  he  had  actually  commenced  to  read  Shakes- 
peare's plays !  They  said  "he's  gone  off  his  nut ;  he's 
reading  Shakespeare!"  Yet  what  a  revelation  those 
plays  were  to  him!  He  lived  in  a  new  world,  all 
brightened  and  beautiful.  He  devoured  them  from 
an  old  volume,  which  he  purchased  for  fifty  cents 
at  a  second-hand  bookstall.  He  read  them  over  and 
over  again.  He  laughed  and  wept  with  a  delight 
almost  hysterical.  He  would  wander  into  silent 
woodland  places  and  declaim  passages  from  all  tlie 
masterpieces.  Oh !  why  had  he  not  read  them  be- 
fore? All  his  life  had  been  wasted.  And  now  his 
manner  changed.  He  looked  about  himself  and  into 
his  own  heart.  Who  was  he?  What  was  he?  Why 
was  he?  The  perennial  questions  when  the  soul 
awakens.  His  voice  took  on  a  softer  tone.  He  be- 
gan to  wonder,  and  wisli  to  be  graceful.  Yes,  it  is 
a  fact,  a  curious,  laughable  ridiculous  fact,  that  this 
same  awkward,  ungainly  young  vagabond  did  really 
wish  to  be  graceful  in  word  and  action.  His  ways 
became  gentle,  and  this  change  of  manner  made  it  all 
the  more  evident  to  his  confreres  that  he  had  really 
gone  mad.  So  they  pitied  him  and  lauglicd.  Then 
he  bought  more  books,  written  by  poets  and  philoso- 


l^audeWlIe  37 

phers,  and  buried  himself  in  them.  He  was  now  of 
age,  and  a  comedian  named  Ryland,  who  had  a  rep- 
utation in  the  music  halls  of  England,  and  whose 
partner  had  died  in  America,  asked  him  to  go  to 
London  and  play  with  him  in  the  English  halls. 
Dromio  jumped  at  the  chance,  partly  to  get  away 
from  his  old  environment,  partly  to  see  Europe  and 
study.    So  they  sailed  away  to  England. 

All  literature  is  biography ;  all  true  autobiography 
is  confession.  If  we  could  truthfully  learn  what  an 
ass  really  thinks  of  himself,  or  an  ant,  for  that  mat- 
ter, it  would  be  interesting,  and  surely  not  less  so, 
a  human  being,  even  though  he  be  young  and  fool- 
ish. And  so,  as  we  have  seen  the  outer  shell  of  this 
mountebank  in  the  embryo,  let  us  take  a  peep  at  the 
inner  part  of  him  with  his  own  eyes  while  he  is 
at  sea. 

He  would  tell  you  anything  of  himself  for  the 
asking,  because  investigation  had  become  a  passion 
with  him,  and  he  looked  upon  himself  as  a  part  of 
the  universal  phenomena  of  life,  which  should  be 
an  open  book  for  the  study  of  all  mankind.  To  be 
happy,  men  must  know  each  other.  He  would  be 
simple.  Men  would  call  him  a  fool,  but  he  had  be- 
come used  to  that.  They  had  already  said  he  was 
mad.  Man  is  just  a  part  of  night  and  day.  In 
proportion  to  his  secretiveness  is  he  unnatural,  un- 
generous, deceptive,  ignorant.  And  yet  blameless 
for  being  so,  because  all  terms  are  relative,  and  the 


38  ®P  Ha  Dp 

secretive  man  is  merely  living  in  tlie  stone  age  still. 
The  rose's  perfume  is  its  heart's  confession.  All  the 
stars  of  the  universe,  all  the  incomprehensible 
beauty  of  the  world,  all  phenomena  of  growth  and 
decay,  are  merely  the  expression  of  some  higher 
power  trying  to  say,  "This  is  me."  Every  true 
poem  that  was  ever  written,  every  picture  painted. 
every  melody  that  ever  gushed  from  the  heart  of 
genius,  is  some  one  trying  to  say,  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, THIS  IS  ME.  But  back  of  it  all  there  is  a 
deeper  cause  that  makes  it  so,  and  therefore  the  se- 
cret of  happiness  is  to  laugh  with  the  deeper  cause 
that  makes  fools  of  men,  for  the  humor  of  the  gods. 
To  keep  your  own  self  sweet,  and  clean,  and  kind, 
not  to  judge,  not  to  praise  or  blame,  but  just  to  laugh 
with  the  deeper  cause,  this  is  to  be  in  harmony.  And 
so,  as  our  young  friend  preferred  to  bare  his  own 
heart  to  the  world,  let  us  look  at  the  secret  springs 
of  his  actions. 

What  was  the  cause  of  his  evolution?  For  he 
did  evolve,  this  fool,  even  amid  all  the  van- 
ities, inanities,  self-deception,  vices,  follies,  poses 
and  poises  peculiar  to  his  calling;  it  was 
still  his  queer  fate  to  burst  the  chrysalis  and 
find  his  wings.  To  become  an  idealist  and  dreamer, 
a  worshiper  of  the  truth  that  is  beauty  and  the 
beauty  that  is  truth  in  all  their  forms  of  "nature's 
naked  loveliness."  And  to  be  brave  to  express  what 
he  felt  in  the  face  of  hollow-hearted  ridicule,  defeat, 


I^aunetiille  39 

disaster  and  death.  He  could  neither  applaud  nor 
pity  himself,  because  he  believed  that  man  did  not 
merit  either  praise  or  blame.  ''The  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream"  had  unfolded  to  him  the  whole 
scheme  of  human  life.  Surely  he  thought  some 
angel,  bent  on  revealing  the  humor  of  the  prompt- 
ers behind  the  veil,  must  have  guided  the  pen  that 
wrote  this  comedy.  Perhaps  no  one  ever  inter- 
preted its  meaning  so  clearly  as  this  same  wander- 
ing fool.  To  him  it  was  the  most  real  of  the  Shakes- 
peare plays ;  therefore,  the  most  laughable.  Laugh- 
ter of  the  right  kind  was  holy  to  him.  All  the  mys- 
tery of  our  misunderstandings,  all  the  mysticism  of 
human  existence  is  unfolded  in  that  evanescent,  iri- 
descent dream.  Words  may  not  explain  or  interpret 
it.  Life  is  there  for  those  privileged  to  read  the 
symbols.  Dream  swindled  life.  The  jealous  Fairy 
King,  and  Puck,  his  errand  boy,  with  whom  you 
may  laugh,  if  you  know  him.  Emerson  was  wrong 
when  he  said  life  was  a  comedy  without  laughter. 
You  may  laugh,  if  you  know  the  gods,  and  their 
ways  and  are  willing. 

To  be  great  is  to  be  misunderstood ;  but  you  must 
try  to  be  understood.  This  will,  however,  insure 
a  misunderstanding  of  you — and  "the  rest  is  si- 
lence."   Such  are  the  ways  of  the  invisible  labelers. 

What  strange  divergencies  there  are  in  human 
fates.  How  many  million  years  between  this  man 
and  that  'vho  talk  together  on  the  busy  street,  or 


40  ^p  JLaDp 

follow  the  same  calling.  This  man  counts  dollars 
all  his  life,  and  dies  with  his  ears  mistnned  to  the 
jingle  of  gold,  and  here  his  brother,  masked  in  the 
same  kind  of  flesh  and  bones,  picks  a  fossil  from 
the  ledge  of  a  mountain,  looks  at  it,  and  tells  you 
the  age  of  the  earth.  Another  extracts  a  drop  of 
your  blood,  and  tells  you  it  is  the  universe  in  minia- 
ture. On  what  slender  threads  do  hang  our  des- 
tinies. "The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  made 
our  Mountebank  a  poet.  Ye  gods !  A  poet  without 
words  or  the  laws  of  words.  Where  were  they  to 
be  found?  In  dictionaries  and  grammars.  Well, 
he  would  have  them.  He  would  study.  He  would 
delve  in  the  ologies,  onomies,  and  isms.  He  was 
still  young.  He  would  learn  about  the  stars  and 
the  laws  of  the  universe.  Even  an  ass  may  learn 
something  when  struck  hard.  He  had  been  struck 
hard.  Let  them  laugh  and  call  him  mad.  He  would 
be  crazy  in  his  own  way.  Bottom  was  an  ass  and  a 
weaver.  He  was  an  ass  at  bottom,  he  would  be  a 
weaver  as  well,  a  word  weaver.  He  would  work 
hard,  he  would  study,  he  would  fit  himself  for  a 
better  place.  His  personality  seemed  to  invite  ag- 
gression. Very  well,  outside  of  his  woik  he  would 
keep  it  in  seclusion  for  awhile,  and  try  to  learn 
something.  He  would  grow.  He  would  get  more 
books  and  learn.  He  would  study.  He  would 
learn  to  make  men  think  and  feel.  So  far  he  had 
only  made  them  laugh.    Well,  that  seemed  more  to 


him  now  than  before,  but  he  would  learn  to  express 
himself.  He  must  study  in  real  earnest.  He  had 
seen  life  with  his  own  eyes;  now  he  would  see  it 
through  the  eyes  of  the  great,  who  had  recorded 
their  impressions  in  books.  Were  there  more  writ- 
ers like  Shakespeare?  he  wondered.  Perhaps  not. 
Anyway,  he  would  find  out;  he  would  read  them 
all.  Perhaps  he  would  become  a  great  actor.  Or, 
perhaps,  after  he  had  educated  himself,  he  would 
leave  the  stage  and  become  a  great  teacher  of  some 
kind.  Ah!  what  funny  dreams  we  have  when  we 
are  young,  when  we  feel  the  first  thrill  of  mental 
blossoming!  Here  was  a  vigorous,  visionary  young- 
vagabond,  a  boy  in  man's  guise,  mapping  out  a  ca- 
reer of  greatness,  and  willing  to  fit  himself  for  it 
when  it  was  to  be  his  queer  destiny  forever  to  wear 
the  ass's  head  and  weave  the  wordy  yarn.  To  be 
laughed  at  always,  somewhat  in  contempt,  and  to 
almost  afright  everybody  except  Titania,  the  Little 
Gold  Lady,  the  fairy  queen  of  his  life's  brief  dream. 
No  wonder  he  laughed  at  himself.  "What  fools 
these  mortals  be,"  says  Puck,  and  Puck  is  right. 
Whatsoever  seems  to  be  such  and  so  to  them  is  the 
reverse,  or  nearly  so,  in  the  eyes  of  the  winking 
gods.  Pucks  of  fairyland,  who  make  you  think  you 
are  this,  and  then  label  you  something  else,  and 
knowing  you  are  neither  one,  sit  down  and  laugh 
at  you.  They  are  the  authors  of  all  our  actions,  and 
their  sense  of  humor  is  sublime.    If  the  outer  husk 


42  a^p  JLatip 

were  the  true  expression  of  the  inner  soul,  vampires 
would  not  be  masked  in  angel  faces,  or  grafters  have 
happy  smiles.  There  were  times  when  Dromio 
thought  that  every  sign  of  him  in  the  eyes  of  men 
belied  some  inner  note  of  his  being,  as  if  he  had 
undertaken  a  contract  prenatally  or  been  condeiiuied 
before  birth  to  a  desire  to  express  himself  through 
these  antithetical  signs.  To  make  himself  understood 
through  contradictions  in  spite  of  men's  natural 
faith  in  their  own  eyes.  At  least,  such  were  the 
intensity  of  his  hopes,  and  the  impossibility  of  their 
fulfilment,  that  they  gave  birth  to  such  fancies  which 
in  turn  made  him  laugh  with  the  Robin  good  fel- 
lows who  planned  it  so,  and  say:  "I  am  in  league 
with  Puck  against  myself,  for  some  purpose  of  the 
play.  I  know  not  the  why  or  the  wherefore." 
However,  he  did  not  talk  in  this  vein  now,  nor  for 
many  years  to  come,  not  until  the  queerness  of  his 
fate  was  burned  into  his  heart. 

Just  now  he  is  musing  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer 
and  watching  the  aquatic  acrobats,  the  billows,  leap 
over  each  other  while  the  good  ship  swaggers  like 
a  tipsy  fairy  on  her  way  to  Liverpool.  He  wondered 
why  the  fates  had  let  him  grow  to  manhood  before 
opening  his  mind  to  the  importance  of  its  own  de- 
velopment. At  his  age  all  men  who  were  meant  for 
anything  had  their  minds  stored  with  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  ages  and  their  brains  disciplined  for 
prompt  action  and  sustained  effort.    The  same  as  he 


l^autietJille  43 

had  trained  his  muscles  to  fight,  swim,  run,  jump, 
leap  or  tumble.  While  other  men  had  acquired  the 
intellectual  weapons  to  fight  the  battle  of  life,  he 
had  been  fooling  his  life  away  learning  the  tricks 
of  a  mountebank;  and  now  this  sudden  thirst  for 
knowledge  that  changed  him  from  a  gladsome  per- 
son in  the  eyes  of  his  companions  to  a  butt  for  all 
their  jokes.  This  sudden  heart  hunger  for  a  sym- 
pathy that  he  could  never  find,  what  was  the  cause 
of  it  all?  From  a  weakly  boy  thrown  among  out- 
casts, he  had  nevertheless  built  himself  into  a  large 
frame  of  a  man  of  brawn,  muscle  and  agility,  while 
the  pageant  of  the  world,  earth's  living  panorama, 
had  passed  by  without  his  paying  much  attention 
to  it.  He  had  seen  it  as  in  a  semi-dream.  He 
thought  of  what  a  sorry  figure  he  was  sure  to  cut  in 
starting  to  school  in  the  college  of  the  world  at  his 
age,  and  yet  he  must  do  so.  He  laughed  at  himself, 
but  there  was  a  sadness  in  his  laugh.  His  transfor- 
mation had  softened  and  saddened  him. 

The  door  that  reveals  the  splendor  of  the  world, 
had  been  thrown  open  to  him,  and  the  glory  of  the 
spectacle  frightened  and  almost  stifled  him.  Every- 
thing became  very  wonderful.  All  life  was  a  miracle, 
full  of  millions  of  miracles.  A  leaf  of  grass  was  a 
very  wonderful  thing — a  miracfe — in  fact,  as  great 
a  miracle  as  a  star.  The  foam  on  the  waves  that 
passed  the  ship,  the  ship  itself,  the  men  and  women 
on  it,  the  ocean  and  the  stars,  all  miracles!     The 


44  ®P  ILatip 

stars!  Why,  he  had  scarcely  ever  noticed  them  be- 
fore. They  were  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  things 
God  has  made.  He  could  gaze  on  them  forever 
with  delight.  He  tried  to  talk  to  some  of  the  pas- 
sengers about  them.  They  were  not  interested. 
They  had  .seen  them  before,  perhaps.  But  he  was 
seeing  them  through  new  eyes,  the  eyes  of  his  soul. 
Yes,  the  world  had  suddenly  become  beautiful  to 
him,  and  for  that  very  reason  he  seemed  to  be  a  dis- 
cordant note  in  this  same  beautiful  world.  He  won- 
dered why  he  was  confused  and  perplexed,  and  well 
he  might.  Man  is  little  known  to  himself,  and  less  to 
his  brother  man.  If  this  were  the  life  story  of  the 
fool,  it  would  perhaps  be  interesting  from  a  psycho- 
logical viewpoint  to  speculate  as  to  whether  this 
metamorphosis  of  him  was  merely  the  awakening  of 
his  latent  self,  or  whether  some  wandering  soul,  that 
had  already  paid  with  much  suffering  for  an  ap- 
preciation of  beauty,  had  taken  up  its  abode  in  his 
cosmos. 

However,  this  is  not  the  story  of  his  life,  but  a 
hasty  glance  at  his  many-sided  character,  which 
the  exigencies  of  our  tale  force  us  to  take,  in  order 
that  we  may  say  what  manner  of  man  did  thus  and 
so,  under  conditions  that  would  make  men  of  a  less 
foolish  and  creduloils  nature  act  in  an  opposite  way. 

Arriving  in  London,  he  played  at  the  music  halls 
with  his  partner,  and  was  a  success.  After  the  anx- 
iety of  making  his  appearance  in  a  new  country  had 


l^auDetJilIe  45 

subsided,  he  gathered  unto  himself  all  the  books  he 
could  buy,  and  devoured  them;  philosophers,  scien- 
tists, poets.  He  had  a  quick  apprehension,  a  prodig- 
uous  memory,  and  he  hoped  to  make  himself  worthy 
of  any  position  to  which  he  might  later  aspire.  His 
life  was  a  prayer  of  gratitude  for  the  accident  that 
had  awakened  him.  He  was  always  alone.  No  one 
ever  spoke  an  encouraging  word  to  him.  Everybody 
said  he  was  a  fool,  and  many  thought  him  mad. 
Each  night  he  played  at  two  or  three  different  music 
halls  with  his  partner,  entertaining  the  audiences 
with  the  most  primitive  kind  of  nonsense  and  bal- 
derdash, and  by  day  he  studied  the  masters  who 
have  called  us  from  our  dead  selves  into  conscious- 
ness. His  favorites  were  Shakespeare,  Shelley,  Byron, 
Keats,  Emerson,  Marcus  Aurelius,  Carlyle,  Goethe, 
Schiller,  Balzac,  Hugo,  Moliere,  Dickens,  and  Ros- 
seau.  Of  course,  he  overstudied,  and  fell  into  the  us- 
ual melancholia  of  all  overzealous  young  students. 
He  became  more  perplexed  and  mystified  than  ever, 
and  fearfully  despondent.  He  began  to  wonder  if, 
after  all,  men  were  not  right  in  their  opinion  of 
him.  Perhaps  he  was  insane,  and,  anyway,  if  not, 
he  was  at  a  terrible  disadvantage.  He  began  to 
depreciate  himself.  The  attitude  of  his  fellows  made 
all  his  virtues  look  as  faults  thrice  magnified.  He 
was  ashamed  of  the  stuff  he  did  at  the  halls,  and  it 
became  hard  labor  to  him.  And  what  was  stranger 
still,  he  was  at  the  same  time  almost  ashamed  of 


46 


6@p  ILaDp 


aspiring  to  something  better.  How  nearly  impos- 
sible it  is  sometimes  to  escape  from  our  environ- 
ment. Here  was  a  fellow  hypersensitive  to  slights 
and  sneers,  quick  to  resent  insult  or  injury,  strong 
to  defend  himself,  and  who  yet  was,  nevertheless, 
worn  into  a  state  wherein  his  manner  became  a  sort 
of  a  mute  apology  for  daring  to  hope  to  fit  himself 
for  something  better,  for  daring  to  study  or  aspire 
in  any  way,  and  almost  for  being  alive.  But  he 
shook  himself  together.  He  had  hitched  his  wagon 
to  a  star,  and  he  went  his  own  way.  He  would  try 
to  be  kind  and  dare  to  be  real,  and  he  would  work, 
and  watch  and  wait. 


I^autieuille  47 


VI. 

ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON  once  delin- 
eated a  legend,  which  tells  of  a  monk  of  the 
Holy  Orders,  and  the  Song  of  a  Nightin- 
gale. The  Stevenson  story  is  not  at  hand,  but  the 
legend  is  somewhat  as  follows: 

In  the  olden  days,  when  the  world  was  young,  a 
good  monk  once  wandered  from  his  monastery  into 
a  wooden  glen,  where  he  heard  a  bird  singing  a 
beautiful  song.  The  bird  was  a  nightingale.  The 
good  monk,  who  had  been  poring  over  his  breviary 
as  he  sauntered  on,  listened  at  first  almost  uncon- 
sciously to  the  song  of  the  bird,  and  presently  he 
stopped,  and  listened  in  earnest,  for  it  was  the  most 
beautiful  music  he  had  ever  heard.  After  a  while 
he^  thought  that  he  began  to  understand  the  melody. 
Then  he  sat  down,  and  listened,  and  listened,  and 
listened;  and  when  he  returned  to  his  monastery 
there  was  no  one  there  who  knew  him,  except  one 
very  old  man,  for  he  had  been  absent  fifty  years. 

What  a  dear,  sweet,  old  tale.    Filled  with  thoughts 


48  ^p  JLatip 

of  the  woodland,  and  the  lethean  mysteries  of  life's 
deeper  interest,  when  viewed  through  the  eyes  of  the 
soul.  Here  is  the  whole  desideratum  of  human  life : 
Absorbing  interest;  the  interpretation  of  beauty 
through  any  of  the  manifold  mysterious  expressions 
of  love;  Love,  speaking  through  the  voice  of  life. 
And  of  all  nature's  myriad-formed,  many-voiced 
phenomena,  what  higher  symbol  tlian  the  nightin- 
gale, is  there,  this  side  of  the  stars?  How  could 
the  absorbed  monk  count  the  hours,  the  years,  or  the 
centuries,  for  that  matter,  when  they  all  flew  by  in 
a  moment?  He  only  knew  that  he  was  listening, 
listening,  listening  to  a  song,  so  sweet,  that  he  must 
try  to  understand — for  the  song  of  Hope  was  the 
song  that  he  heard,  and  the  nightingale  was  the  sym- 
bol of  truth. 

Other  men  hear  it  in  other  ways,  and  to  them 
the  clarions  of  the  battle  call.  To  those  who  will 
listen,  life  is  as  a  moment,  and  deatli  but  a  door, 
leading  to  some  other  star,  where  hope  whispers, 
"songs  are  still  beautiful,"  and  love  listens  still  to 
the  story  of  old.  Perhaps  only  those  zvill  listen  who 
are  destined  to  understand ;  but  surely  for  them  the 
world  undergoes  a  phantasmagorical  change,  and 
they  themselves  are  born  over  again.  All  the  poi- 
sons of  the  past,  all  the  hate,  scorn  and  contempt  are 
burnt  out  in  the  fire  of  a  new  love.  The  masks  fall 
from  the  faces  of  all  the  people ;  and  men  and  women 
play  tlu'ir  reril  parts  in  the  sublime  drama.     For  it 


l^auDetJille  49 

is  a  drama ;  it  is  a  play  so  sublime,  that  earth's  won- 
der workers  of  all  time,  were  their  intellects 
blended,  could  not  fathom  the  heart  of  its  mystery. 
You  know  this  when  you  hear  the  song;  and  then 
you  know  that  you  have  heard  something  not  heard 
by  all,  and  you  wonder  why  you  did  not  hear  it  be- 
fore. Why!  half  the  world  is  ringing  with  it!  Nor 
can  the  jingle  of  gold,  nor  the  song  of  fame,  drown 
it.  It  is  yours.  Your  being  is  permeated  with  it. 
It  sings  from  the  stars,  and  slumbers  in  women's 
eyes;  in  the  laughter  of  children,  in  man's  actions, 
in  the  flowers,  the  market  place,  the  streets,  the 
woods,  everywhere! — and  only  the  few  are  listen- 
ing. You  know  you  are  one  of  the  few.  You  call 
to  the  others  to  listen,  but  they  only  laugh,  and  run 
on,  shouting:  "Fool!  Fool!  Fool!"  You  may 
meet  another  who  has  heard  an  echo  of  the  song, 
in  a  different  way  from  your  way,  perhaps,  but  still 
you  know  that  he  has  heard.  He  has  burnt  his  way 
through  the  world  to  you.  He  is  youis  Oh !  yes,  he  is 
yours.  Both  of  you  may  be  playing  only  parts  in 
the  chorus  of  the  great  drama;  both  of  you  have 
heard  many  times  before  that  it  was  all  a  play;  all 
the  seers  have  said  so,  in  one  way  or  another,  and 
you  thought  that  you  understood;  but  now  you 
know  that  you  did  not  understand,  but  why  you  did 
not  understand  you  do  not  know.  You  know  the 
story  of  the  song  may  never  be  fully  told  to  the 
ears  of  man.     You  know  that  all  the  bright  com- 


so  ^p  JLaDp 

rades  of  yore,  who  listened  and  wove  their  words 
into  spells,  succeeded  in  muttering  only  a  few  in- 
articulate words  and  passed  on,  and  yet  you  will 
try  to  interpret  its  mystery.  Even  you,  with  hope 
bursting  your  heart  strings,  and  the  foolish  lure  in 
your  eyes. 

Well,  go  out  into  the  world,  and  tell  your  dreams, 
if  you  must.  Listen  to  your  foolish  bird.  But  re- 
member this :  You  must  pay.  You  must  pay.  You 
must  burn  yourself  out  in  a  world  of  iron  and  gold 
— in  a  world  that  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  your  song.  You 
must  paint  for  eyes  that  are  blind.  If  you  are  of  the 
elect,  then  it  follows  that  only  the  few  may  know 
you.  Who  else  may  understand?  And  yet,  in  this 
respect,  you  may  be  justified.  If  the  world  of  men 
is  worth  improving,  perhaps  for  a  divine  reason 
were  you  permitted  to  hear  the  song;  for  only  those 
who  have  listened  have  made  it  possible  that  you 
may  dare.  Only  those  who  have  listened  to  the 
nightingale.  It  is  a  plaintive  strain;  at  times,  in  a 
minor  key;  but  its  theme  is  hope,  the  bright,  the 
beautiful.  All  through  the  night  of  the  ages  it  sings 
of  the  dawn.  The  ever  coming  dawn.  Time  is  a 
delusion.  Ten  thousand  years  are  less  than  a  mo- 
ment in  eternity,  and  since  time  began  this  song  has 
been  calling  to  us;  calling  us  from  the  depths  of  the 
earth  and  sea,  into  the  light  of  the  sun  and  the 
stars.  Calling  us  from  shells,  and  caves,  and  trees, 
up  through  the  myriad  stages  of  evolution,  into  man- 


l^auDeDille  5^ 

hood  and  womanhood.  Calling  us  from  subconscious- 
ness into  consciousness.  Calling  us  into  brother- 
hood, to  teach  us  who  we  are,  and  still  calling,  call- 
ing, calling.  We  call  the  song  by  many  names :  phil- 
osophy, art,  science,  progress,  truth  and  beauty;  but 
it  is  the  same  voice  all  the  time,  struggling  into  di- 
vers expressions,  through  the  instrument  man,  and 
smaller  things.  Pope  or  pariah  may  hear  it;  em- 
peror or  eremite  may  listen,  but  no  slave  may  voice 
its  echo  until  his  soul  be  free.  It  is  as  much  a  sub- 
ject of  science  as  of  sermon.  The  spirit  of  all  re- 
search ;  it  is  the  higher  voice  of  the  unknown  calling 
death  into  life,  and  life's  myriad  forms,  higher  and 
higher,  lifting  veil  after  veil. 

And  so  our  mountebank,  who  had  now  become  a 
sort  of  a  derelict  air  ship,  floating  among  the  clouds, 
a  flotsam  on  the  skyey  ether  of  dreams,  one  night 
heard  the  song  of  this  wonderful  bird,  and  was 
made  whole.  It  fell  upon  his  spirit  as  softly  as  ce- 
lestial dew  upon  the  face  of  the  dead,  and  awakened 
him  to  new  life  and  effort.  Now,  he  knew  why  he 
had  been  awakened,  why  he  had  worn  his  mask 
through  the  world.  It  was  this  that  he  had  uncon- 
sciously sought  for  all  his  life;  it  was  this  that  he 
had  been  prepared  to  hear.  It  was  only  an  echo, 
faint  at  first,  but  it  reached  his  inner  heart,  and  de- 
veloped until  it  took  possession  of  him.  Yes,  it  was 
just  an  echo,  but  it  was  an  echo  of  the  soul  of  the 
world.    It  was  the  Niglitingale's  Song  of  Brotherly 


52_ ^V  ilatig 

Love,  transposed  from  the  lute  strings  of  Israfel's 
angel  heart  into  the  voice  of  fellowship,  and  sung 
by  his  half-mad  nomad  comrades,  for  some  listener 
to  hear. 

And  Dromio  listened  and  heard. 

Though  we  be  ever  together,  most  of  us  are 
hidden  from  each  other  until  our  work  reveals  our 
dreams. 

When  Dromio  joined  the  Order  of  Water  Rats, 
less  was  known  of  him  than  of  any  member  of  the 
Fraternity.  He  was  looked  upon,  even  by  those  in- 
clined to  be  charitable  in  their  judgment,  as  a  freak- 
ish sort  of  a  fool,  who  kept  to  himself  and  studied 
dry  books.  Still,  no  one  objected  to  him,  and  his 
partner,  dear  old  Cliff  Ryland,  was  enthusiastic, 
and  sounded  his  praises  above  his  eccentricities.  So 
he  was  permitted  to  join.  Had  he  brought  to  them 
the  old,  laughing,  unawakened  young  vagabond  he 
had  left  behind  in  America,  he  would  possibly  have 
ingratiated  himself  into  their  good  graces  at  once, 
but  something  had  softened  him  into  a  negative 
upon  which  the  world  was  being  painted  in  new 
colors.  Well  knowing  their  disposition,  he  at  first 
suspected  that  they  had  accepted  him  just  for  fun. 
But  this  was  not  so,  as  they  rightly  held  their  little 
order,  with  all  its  joviality,  in  an  esteem  too  high 
for  such  a  purpose;  and  though  some  incidents  oc- 
curred to  strengthen  his  first  suspicions,  he  soon 


l^auDetJflle  53 

grew  to  know  them  better,  and  they  in  turn  saw  him 
with  clearer  eyes. 

What  impressed  him  most  among  them  was  the 
oneness  of  spirit  that  pervaded  their  meetings,  and 
the  miraculous  change  that  could  be  wrought  in  a 
crowd  of  merry  makers  by  fraternity.  In  their  play 
world  there  were  the  usual  jealousies,  vanities  and 
feelings,  which  always  accompany  the  quest  of  ap- 
plause and  guffaws.  But  here  all  was  harmony,  san- 
ity and  good  fellowship.  Surely,  here  was  a  better 
world — this  other  side  of  themselves. 

And  so  in  his  walks  he  began  to  dream  of  a  new 
life.  He  asked  himself  why,  if  the  conditions  of  a 
small  band  of  music  hall  artists  were  so  greatly  im- 
proved by  fellowship,  should  not  all  the  entertainers 
of  the  world  come  together  in  one  great  fraternity? 
And  this  idea  began  to  haunt  him,  until  it  consumed 
him.  The  magnitude  of  the  dream  did  not  dawn 
upon  him  at  once.  It  came  gradually.  It  was  an 
accretion.  It  grew.  In  the  little  society  he  began 
to  have  something  to  say,  and  he  was  listened  to 
with  respect.  The  friends  he  made  among  them 
made  life  more  pleasant,  and  not  for  him  alone  was 
this  enhanced  happiness.  Many  good  brothers  met 
there  who  had  been  acquainted  all  their  lives,  but 
just  acquainted — that  was  all;  but  they,  under  the 
inspiring  influence  of  brotherhood,  had  grown  to 
know  and  love  each  other,  instead  of  going  their 
ways  through  life,  meeting  often  in  their  little  play 


54 •_ Q^g  Lapp 

world,  but  with  never  a  glimpse  into  each  other's 
hearts. 

He  wished  that  this  state  of  affairs  could  be  uni- 
versal— at  least,  among  the  members  of  his  merry 
tribe:  the  mountebanks  of  the  earth.  Why  could 
they  not  all  be  transformed  and  lifted  up  from  where 
he  had  left  them  at  the  parting  of  the  ways?  Poor 
dreaming  fool ! — he  had  yet  to  learn  many  things  of 
the  ways  of  destiny  and  the  human  soul. 

He  was  considered  by  all  the  members  to  be  too 
radical,  and  yet  his  friends  increased.  And  when 
the  ritual  of  the  Order,  being  deemed  too  frivolous 
for  present  purposes,  needed  revising,  and  as  Wal 
Pink,  the  author  of  the  first  one,  was  away,  the 
honor  of  revisor  fell  to  Dromio.  He  wrote  a  new 
one,  retaining  the  spirit  of  the  original,  and  when  he 
read  it  to  the  members  assembled,  great  was  their 
'enthusiasm. 

Brother  Pink,  who  had  then  returned,  attended  the 
meeting,  and  proposed  that  it  be  adopted  as  the  rit- 
ual of  the  society.  The  proposition  was  carried 
unanimously,  and  thus  it  came  about  that  this  same 
sad-faced  fool,  who  had  joined  them  in  laughing 
at  himself  a  year  or  so  ago,  now  gave  them  that 
5*^me  foolish  heart  for  the  heart  of  their  Order. 

Yet,  in  truth,  he  gave  them  only  that  which  they 
had  unconsciously  taught  him,  and  what  he  had  all 
unconsciously  learned,  m  one  moment,  when  he 
stood  alone  in  a  friendless  world  of  darkness  and 


I^autietiille  55 

doubt,  and  heard  within  their  Fraternal  Hall  the 
Song  of  Brotherly  Love. 

And  now  he  met  The  Little  Gold  Lady ;  and  mar- 
ried her;  and  everything  in  the  world  became  still 
more  beautiful!  He  had  left  his  partner,  to  go  on 
the  dramatic  stage,  but  he  could  not  secure  an  en- 
gagement anywhere.  He  tramped  the  streets  of 
London  several  months,  visiting  the  agencies,  but 
there  was  nothing  for  him.  How  absurd,  for  a 
Music  Hall  Mummer  to  aspire  to  Histrionic  Hon- 
ors! He  wrote  poems,  which  never  found  their 
way  into  print,  so  he  read  them  to  The  Little  Gold 
Lady,  and  impersonated  Shakespeare  characters  be- 
fore her  startled,  but  sympathetic,  eyes.  Soon  they 
began  to  starve  together,  so  he  went  back  to  the 
Halls  alone.  He  sang  songs  and  told  stories.  Again 
he  was  a  success;  but  the  managers,  knowing  his 
condition,  offered  him  a  starvation  salary,  and  be- 
cause he  did  not  accept  it  at  once,  in  great  gratitude, 
they  eventually  would  not  engage  him  at  any  price. 

He  was  blacklisted  everywhere. 

He  would  occasionally  appear  at  a  smoking  con- 
'cert,  for  which  he  would  receive  one  guinea;  or  sell 
a  song  for  a  few  shillings  to  some  brother  profes- 
sional who  perhaps  never  thought  of  singing  it.  But 
what,  he  would  say,  are  a  few  shillings  in  Bohemia, 
when  a  brother  soldier  in  the  army  of  Art  and 
Heart  is  crippled  on  the  field?  What  are  a  few 
shillings,  forsooth,  or  a  few  pounds,  for  that  mat- 


56 


®p  LaDp 


ter,  or  several  thousand  pounds,  if  you  will,  and 
ever}'  guilder  coined  from  your  own  heart's  blood, 
when  your  own  true  Brother  is  in  need?  And  now 
there  was  a  bay  window  in  Brixton  Road,  from 
which  looked  out  the  Little  Gold  Lady  daily  for 
Dromio  to  return  with  his  few  shillings,  and  they 
were  sure  of  "Kippers"  for  breakfast  the  next  morn- 
ing. They  lived  on  bread  and  jam  and  marmalade, 
and  the  honey  of  the  moon. 


The  Little  Gold  Lady. 


l^auDeUille  57 


VII. 

IT  was  about  this  time  that  Dromio  met  Mantwa 
— Michael  Mantwa;  Mantwa,  the  merry; 
Mantwa,  the  brilliant;  Mantwa,  the  wise,  the 
witty,  semi-cynical  Mantwa.  He  appeared  to 
Dromio  Hke  a  demi-god,  or  semi-devil — Dromio 
could  never  tell  you  which,  for  Mantwa  came  into 
his  life  at  this  time,  suddenly,  like  an  apparition, 
or  a  flash  of  lightning  amid  the  fogs  of  London. 
Wonderful,  but  dangerous,  Mantwa!  Dangerous 
to  what?  Dangerous  to  faith.  Mantwa  was 
for  facts.  Dromio  for  dreams.  He  was  Dro- 
mio's  anthithisis.  He  saw  everything  as  Dr('»mio 
saw  it  not,  believed  everything  that  Dromio  believed 
not  in.  Where  Dromio  saw  future  milleniums.  and 
cities  founded  on  Brotherly  Love,  Mantwa  saw  at 
the  end  of  every  dream  only  disaster,  devastation, 
chaos,  death.  He  was  Dromio's  anti  ego.  If  he 
believed  that  some  cruel  destiny  ruled  the  world, 
and  that  the  sun  and  moon,  the  splendor  of  the  uni- 
verse, the  ecstacies  of  passion,  the  joys  of  conscious- 
ness, and  all  life's  pleasures,  were  mere  lures  for 


58  ^p  jLaDp 

dupes,  still  he  smiled,  and  smiled,  and  was  really 
happy.  His  heart  was  never  weighed  down  with 
that  sentimentality  that  made  the  Dromio  such  a 
sad  proposition.  And  though  Mantwa  looked  ever 
dawnward,  yet  he  saw  darkness  beyond.  He  be- 
lieved in  progression,  and  that,  do  what  you  may, 
the  fittest  would  survive.  He  believed  in  the  fittest. 
He  looked  upon  man  as  a  machine,  capable  of  being 
improved,  of  course,  but  he  believed  that  as  thought 
has  always  been  only  for  the  few,  and  expression 
for  the  fewer  still,  so  it  would  continue  to  be,  and 
that  if  mankind  were  to  reach  the  top  of  the  hill  of 
evolution,  we  would  descend  again  on  the  other  side, 
if  for  no  other  reason  than  simply  because  the  earth 
is  round.  In  short,  Mantwa  was  a  patrician,  who 
viewed  the  world  from  an  intellectual  hill  of  his 
own.  Like  Disraeli's  Sidonia,  his  mind  seemed  to 
be  instructed  on  all  subjects,  and  his  opinions 
formed.  The  spirit  of  mockery  was  in  his  speech, 
and  made  him  appear  cynical.  Nonchalant  of  man- 
ner, easy  of  address,  a  seeming  freedom  from  preju- 
dice or  passion  on  every  topic,  made  Dromio  think 
him  something  almost  supernatural.  They  were  of 
the  same  age,  and  when  Mantwa  burst  upon  his 
horizon,  the  circumstance  was  to  Dromio  like  a 
new  dream.  If  there  were  times  afterwards  when 
Mantwa  appeared  like  a  nightmare,  why,  that  is  an- 
other chapter.  He  looked  like  Hope,  but  he  preached 
Disaster.    However,  his  influence  on  Dromio's  edu- 


l^auDeUille  59 

cation  was  wonderful.  He  seemed  to  know  every- 
thing and  everybody,  and  he  took  the  fool  by  the 
hand,  as  if  he  had  been  a  little  child,  and  led  him 
through  the  galleries  of  Europe,  explaining  the 
works  of  the  masters :  painters,  musicians,  poets, 
architects.  Dromio  learned  something  of  each  from 
Mantwa.  Mantwa  was  all  critical,  Dromio  all  cred- 
ulity. One  day  the  Fool  ventured  to  tell  him  of  his 
dream  of  an  organization  that  would  fraternize  the 
"Merry  Makers."  Mantwa  then  undertook  to  dis- 
suade him  from  any  such  project.  "Surely,"  said 
Mantwa,  "you  are  not  thinking  seriously  of  fra- 
ternizing all  the  Pro's  of  the  Music  Hall  world,  or, 
as  you  call  them,  the  Vaudevillians?"  "That  is  just 
what  I  am  thinking  of  doing,"  said  the  Fool.  "But 
peoi)le  will  think  you  are  insane!"  "Well,"  said 
Dromio,  "that's  an  old  joke  to  me.  so  1  guess  I  can 
stand  it.  I  have  a  message  to  deliver  to  them.  I 
want  to  teach  them  the  power  of  Brotherly  Love, 
and  the  value  of  their  collective  strength ;  also,  some 
of  the  wonderful  things  that  you  have  taught  me: 
the  lives  of  the  masters,  their  work,  their  inspira- 
tions, the  spirit  that  held  them  true  in  the  dark 
hours  of  their  lives.  I  want  to  teach  them  that  their 
profession  can  be  made  a  high  calling,  respected  by 
all  the  peoples  of  the  earth.  In  short,  I  wish  to  edu- 
cate them  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word.  Every- 
body is  imperfectly  educated.  These  fellows  of 
mine  know  more  about  certain  phases  of  life  than 


6o  ^|)  JLatip 

most  college  professors.  My  desire  is  to  awaken 
them  to  the  value  of  what  they  know,  and  teach 
them  the  value  of  that  which  they  do  not  know. 
Their  profession  should  belong  to  themselves,  as  it 
belonged  in  the  beginning,  and  not  to  so-called  im- 
presarios or  directors.  It  is  they  whom  the  people 
come  to  see,  not  the  managers.  I  want  them  to  own 
themselves,  their  art  and  all  its  enterprises ;  then  they 
will  be  in  a  way  to  acquire  some  real  knowledge  of 
this  ant  hill  on  which  they  sing,  laugh,  and  dance 
out  their  lives  for  the  edification  of  its  other  inhab- 
itants. And  as  the  beginning  can  only  be  made  by 
collective  effort,  it  is  my  purpose  to  organize  them 
all  over  the  earth,  in  a  spirit  so  sacred  that,  no  mat- 
ter what  flag  they  caper  under,  their  hearts  will  be 
loyal  to  their  own  wandering  tribe,  and  its  cause 
their  own  uplifting." 

Mantwa  smiled  incredulously. 

"Well,"  said  he,  **I  have  heard  of  many  dreams, 
but  this  is  the  wildest  yet!  I  myself  will  begin  to 
have  fears  for  your  sanity  if  you  continue  raving. 
The  accomplishment  of  such  a  task  is  impossible, 
for  every  reason  in  the  world,  but  more  so  for  you 
than  almost  anyone  else.  In  the  first  place,  as  none 
of  your  fellows  understand  you,  you  will  be 
guyed  off  the  face  of  the  earth.  Because  you  were 
ambitious  enough  to  wish  to  rise  out  of  your  envir- 
onment, you  appear  to  your  fellows,  who  love  that 
same  environment,  as  ridiculous,  hence  they  will 


have  no  faith  in  you,  and  because  you  have  dared  to 
seek  the  light,  fate  has  labeled  you  as  a  fool. 

"But  let  us  say  that  you  were  eminently  successful 
in  your  profession,  or  even  some  great  man,  with 
iron  in  your  blood,  like  Caesar,  Napoleon,  or  other 
men  who  conquered  worlds,  this  task  would  still  be 
impossible,  because  they  will  not  understand  you; 
they  will  not  want  to  understand  you.  They  are 
young,  careless,  happy,  drunk  with  applause,  intox- 
icated with  themselves.  They  will  have  only  ridicule 
for  you,  and  no  man  can  withstand  ridicule.  Dream- 
ers are  always  damned  by  those  who  they  would 
fain  try  to  save.  After  nineteen  hundred  years  of 
constant  preaching,  men  have  yet  to  learn  the  Gold- 
en Rule.  Christ  was  not  a  business  man.  He  was 
credulous.  He  thought  man  could  be  taught  good- 
ness. But  you  will  find  that  man's  experience  with 
his  brother  makes  him  skeptical,  and  your  fellows  of 
Follyland  are  the  skeptically  extreme.  Then,  besides, 
it  is  not  as  if  you  were  appealing  to,  and  depending 
upon  a  crowd  of  craftsmen,  or  a  gang  of  laborers, 
each  of  which  receives  the  same  wage  and  has  the 
same  social  status,  and  a  more  or  less  similar  mental 
apparatus,  combined  with  a  sort  of  a  dogged  belief 
that  they  are  victims  of  fate,  and  are  being  imposed 
upon  by  their  masters,  and  are  therefore  always 
ready  to  listen  to  a  leader  who  promises  to  better 
their  conditions.  Such  people  have  all  to  hope  for, 
and  all  to  gain,  while  your  overestimated  and  much- 


62  Q^p  JLaDp 

applauded  confreres  are  the  highest  paid  people  in 
the  world.  What  I  mean  is:  they  receive  more  in 
return  for  the  little  they  give  than  any  class  of 
people  on  earth.  Was  it  not  Pinero  who  said  of 
them:  'Theirs  is  the  wit  of  the  washtub  and  the 
pathos  of  the  pantry?'  " 

This  last  shaft  was  too  much  for  Dromio.  He 
turned  crimson,  and  his  eyes  blazed ! 

"Whoever  said  that  is  not  only  an  arrogant  fool, 
but  a  narrow,  unsympathetic  ass!"  he  cried,  "for 
he  uses  what  little  brains  nature  has  bestowed  upon 
him  to  ridicule  his  less  fortunate  fellows ;  therefore, 
he  is  not  v^'orthy  of  those  brains!  Oh!  what  con- 
tempt I  have  for  a  scornful  person,  whom  chance 
has  graced  with  a  little  fancy,  and  who,  instead  of 
using  whatever  little  gifts  he  may  have  for  the  up- 
lift of  his  brothers,  stands  aloof  on  his  little  mole 
hill  and  scoffs  in  pretty  epigrams,  saying  in  effect, 
'Behold !  how  witty  and  clever  and  remote  am  I !'  " 

"Well,"  said  Mantwa,  "your  own  mimic  world 
is  filled  with  just  this  class  of  spirits,  who  would 
spare  no  brother's  feelings  if  they  could  make  a  few 
others  guffaw.  For  heaven's  sake,  Dromio,  go  and 
study  the  law  of  equity!  In  this  life  we  get  just 
what  we  give.  Your  people  laugh  at  the  world,  and 
the  world  laughs  at  them;  they  ridicule  men  and 
women  for  money,  and  the  world  flings  them  its 
pennies  and  shrugs  its  shoulders. 

"But  let  us  forget  the  ethics  of  it,  and  look  at  tlie 


l^auDetJille  63 

practical  side  of  your  wild  scheme,  or  dream,  or 
plan,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call  it.  As  I  said, 
they  are  not  laborers  with  the  same  mentality  or 
social  status  as  each  other.  How  are  you  ever  going 
to  reconcile  into  one  Brotherhood  people  of  such 
divergencies  of  tastes  and  temperament  as  exist  in 
your  profession — especially  in  America,  where  I  be- 
lieve it  is  your  aim  to  first  put  your  plan  into  exe- 
cution? They  not  only  come  into  the  show  world 
from  many  different  walks  of  life,  but  as  each  one 
makes  his  success,  he  at  once  holds  himself  as  a  sort 
of  a  superior  being  to  those  who  have  not  as  yet 
received  the  same  amount  of  applause,  guffaws  or 
money.  They  all  receive  different  salaries,  and 
those  who  receive  less  are  jealous  of  those  who  re- 
ceive more;  those  who  have  not  made  their  hits 
look  upon  those  who  have  as  flukes." 

"Yes,"  said  Dromio,  "but  I  have  seen  how  a 
Brotherhood  alters  all  this :  how  it  brings  tliem  from 
the  narrow  centre  of  self,  and  makes  them  look  out- 
ward on  the  world." 

"Well,  you  never  can  convince  me,"  said  Mantwa. 

"I  am  sorry  you  are  so  prejudiced,"  said  Dromio. 
"I  am  sorry  to  see  you  look  upon  any  class  through 
the  myopia  of  intellectual  pride.  I  know  them  to  be 
the  soul  of  charity.  The  members  of  no  other  call- 
ing in  the  world  are  so  ready  to  assist  each  other 
when  in  need.  The  members  of  no  other  calling  in 
the  world  do  so  much  in  the  way  of  charity  to  alle- 


64  9^p  JLaDp 

viate  the  pecuniary  distress  of  the  suffering  ones  of 
earth.  The  members  of  no  other  calHng  in  the 
world  are  so  generous  and  open  hearted,  or  so  char- 
itable to  the  faults  of  each  other.  They  are  the 
Knights  of  song  and  laughter,  and  by  fraternity 
they  will  have  still  more  power  to  do  good,  and  still 
more  power  to  improve  themselves  in  those  graces, 
the  absence  of  which  you  so  deeply  deplore." 

"Bah!  you  are  talking  through  your  hat!"  said 
Mantwa.  "I  did  really  have  some  hope  for  you  be- 
fore you  became  obsessed  by  this  mania.  You  will 
soon  be  a  socialist,  and  want  to  reform  the  work! ! 
But  remember  this — ^you  are  not  a  Shelley,  and 
though  you  have  learned  a  few  things,  your  status 
is  still  that  of  a  jester,  and  in  proportion  to  the  mag- 
nitude of  your  dream  will  you  be  considered  by  all 
sensible  men  as  a  Fool.  I  am  getting  tired.  Good 
day." 

Mantwa  took  his  hat  and  departed.  Dromio's 
heart  sank,  and  he  sat  for  hours  with  his  chin  rest- 
ing on  his  hand,  dreaming  and  wondering.  He  al- 
most worshipped  Mantwa,  and  he  hated  to  see  the 
bond  between  them  lessened.  But  this  was  the  rock 
upon  which  they  split.  It  was  the  old  proposition 
as  to  whether  a  man  should  use  his  fellows,  or  try  to 
be  of  use  to  them. 

They  met  seldom  after  this,  and  when  they  did 
meet,  it  was  only  to  open  the  old  warfare.  Mantwa 
pitied  the  Fool,  and  the  Fool  was  sorry  for  Mantwa. 


l^auDetJiIIe  65 

The  Fool  studied,  wrote,  and  dreamed,  and  strug- 
gled for  a  few  more  years  in  London,  and  then  one 
day  Joe  Elvin  came  to  him  and,  handing  him  a 
handful  of  sovereigns,  said: 

"Dromio,  go  home  to  America.  They  don't  seem 
to  want  you  here.  Go  home,  old  boy,  and  come  back 
again  when  they  are  ripe  for  you.  We  will  take 
care  of  the  Little  Gold  Lady  until  you  ran  send  for 
her.  Come  down  to  the  Lodge  next  Sunday  night 
and  say  au  revoir." 

At  the  next  meeting  of  the  Water  Rats,  against 
all  his  protestations  and  tears,  they  voted  him  his 
fare  to  America,  and  a  weekly  allowance  for  the 
Little  Gold  Lady,  until  such  time  as  he  could  send 
for  her;  and  they  did  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  try  to 
persuade  him  that  he  was  a  king,  instead  of  a  beg- 
gar. They  toasted  him,  and  sang  "He's  a  jolly  good 
fellow!"  They  wished  him  good  luck  and  God 
speed,  and  the  following  week  he  kissed  the  Little 
Gold  Lady  good-bye,  and  sailed  for  America,  with 
his  cai^go  of  dreams. 


66  Qip  £atip 


VIII. 

IN  America  Dromio  had  one  friend — James  F. 
Dolan,  by  name.  Dromio  called  him  Jim  the 
Gipsy.  Gipsy  Jim  of  the  mellow  heart  and  the 
starry  eyes,  and  no  man  is  useless  while  he  has  a 
friend,  said  Stevenson.  They  had  been  playmates 
at  school:  they  learned  to  sing  and  dance  and  fight 
together,  when  little  boys  at  home;  they  had  been 
tramps  togetlier  in  their  teens;  and  Gipsy  Jim  had 
taught  him  many  things,  principally  to  say  ill  of  no 
man,  never  to  harbor  revenge,  and  never  to  believe 
an  ill  rumor  of  another  fellow  till  personal  experi- 
ence corroborated  it.  When  Dromio  had  left  Amer- 
ica, years  before,  Jim  had  placed  one  hundred  dol- 
lars in  the  bank,  and  said :  "Dromio,  you  will  per- 
haps always  be  broke,  no  matter  how  successful 
you  are,  so  when  you  want  to  come  home,  send  for 
that  money." 

So,  on  arriving  in  New  York,  Dromio  went 
straight  to  the  home  of  Gipsy  Jim,  who,  meanwhile, 
had  become  a  great  success  in  modern  Vaudeville. 


The  meeting  was  enthusiastic.  They  had  been  part- 
ners as  boys,  and  as  men  they  remained  boys  still. 
The  Fool  hoped  to  secure  an  engagement  in  the  Le- 
gitimate drama,  but  after  three  or  four  weeks  of 
tramping  up  and  down  Broadway,  funds  became 
low  in  the  Gipsy  camp,  and  he  arranged  to  play  a 
week  in  Vaudeville.  He  was  a  success;  such  a  suc- 
cess, in  fact,  that  the  event  decided  his  future,  and 
kept  the  ass's  head  upon  his  shoulders. 

In  his  entertainment  he  wore  no  make  up.  He 
walked  from  the  street  on  to  the  stage  and  simply 
talked  to  the  audience,  unravelling  the  humorous 
part  of  himself.  He  talked  of  what  he  saw  on  the 
street,  in  railway  trains,  on  trolley  cars,  in  hotels, 
lobbies,  public  places,  and  drawing  rooms.  His  en- 
gagement was  prolonged,  and  he  began  to  enjoy  the 
first  real  success  he  had  ever  known.  He  remained 
in  Vaudeville,  and  paid  his  debts  in  England,  and 
sent  for  The  Little  Gold  Lady.  She  arrived  on  the 
next  steamer.  Two  months  later  their  first  baby 
was  born,  a  little  girl.  Now,  he  must  stick  to  Vaude- 
ville, and  earn  a  home.  So  once  again  he  is  har- 
nessed in  the  Motley  which  he  must  forever  wear. 
Well,  never  mind.  Perhaps  it  will  be  a  better  point 
of  vantage  from  which  to  realize  his  dream.  For 
the  next  five  years  he  played  the  principal  cities  of 
America  as  a  Star  in  Vaudeville.  Whenever  he 
made  a  friend,  he  told  him  of  his  dream.  Nearly  all 
those  friends  said;    "It  would  be  impossible.    You 


68  ^P  JLaD? 

cannot  organize  actors.  They  will  not  stick  to- 
gether. It  has  been  tried  often,  and  always  proved 
a  failure,"  said  they — all  except  a  few,  among  them 
Jim  the  Gipsy. 

"It's  a  great  idea,"  said  Jim,  "and  the  time  is  get- 
ting ripe  for  it.  These  managers  are  forming  them- 
selves into  little  circuits,  and  the  time  will  soon  come 
when  they  will  all  flock  together;  then  away  will 
go  our  salaries." 

George  Monroe  and  George  Reno  also  encouraged 
him,  and  George  M.  Cohan  and  Dromio  talked  over 
its  possibilities  for  weeks,  while  dreaming  on  the 
sands  of  Atlantic  City,  in  the  summer  of  '99. 

One  morning,  early  in  May,  1900,  the 
Vaudeville  Artists  of  the  United  States  awoke 
and  read  in  the  papers  that  all  the  principal  Mana- 
gers of  Variety  Theatres  were  going  to  meet  and 
form  a  gigantic  Vaudeville  trust,  or  syndicate,  and 
that  the  powers  of  this  syndicate  were  only  going  to 
invite  one  certain  favorite  Manager  of  each  City 
outside  of  Greater  New  York  to  join  their  enter- 
prise :  that  all  others  would  be  tabooed,  and  that  as, 
therefore,  there  would  be  but  one  Theatre  in  every 
town  where  the  Vaudevillain  could  secure  an  en- 
gagement, the  said  Vaudevillain's  salary  would  be 
much  reduced.  They  also  read  in  these  papers  that 
there  were  too  many  actors  on  the  stage,  and  that 
the  actor  received  too  much  salary  anyway ;  and  that 
the  supply  of  Vaudevillains  was  greater  than  tha 


WmhMUt  69 

demand,  so  the  unfit  would  have  to  be  weeded  out, 
and  go  back  to  the  mines  or  the  woods.  Who  were 
the  unfit?  The  Managers  did  not  say.  Afterwards, 
they  said  they  meant  the  "Gold-Bricks,"  this  being 
their  term  for  actors  and  actresses  from  the  legiti- 
mate stage  who  found  Vaudeville  profitable,  and 
continued  in  it,  and  whose  first  advent  therein  had 
lent  tone  and  prestige  and  brought  a  new  following 
to  their  theatres. 

But  whatever  they  may  have  meant,  the  news  of 
their  contemplated  merging  .struck  consternation 
deep  into  the  ranks  of  Vaudevillains.  "Like  thunder 
'crost  the  Bay"  it  came  and  struck  them  dumb 
everywhere.  Late  in  the  following  month  of  May 
the  Managers  met  and  conferred.  The  Hoffman 
House  was  their  meeting  place,  and  it  was  there  that 
Dromio  interviewed  some  of  them  after  their  first 
or  second  conference.  One  of  them  slapped  him  on 
the  shoulder  and  laughingly  said*  "Dromio,  we 
have  certainly  had  you  on  the  pan  upstairs." 

Some  of  them  crowded  around  and  began  to 
argue.  Some  good-natured  bantering  followed,  and 
they  had  some  drinks  and  smokes,  and  they  con- 
tinued "kidding"  him.  "Ah,  come  on  now,  Dro- 
mio," they  said,  "yo^  know  you  fellows  get  too 
much  money.  We  are  going  to  give  you  forty 
weeks'  work  a  season.  Of  course,  you  will  not  get 
so  much  money  per  week,  but  look  at  the  work  you 
will  havel    And  we  are  going  to  cut  out  the  agent 


70  Q^p  Latip 

and  book  you  fellows  dii-ect,'  said  liiey,  again  slap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder  and  laughing, 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "but  you  will  take  the  agents*  five 
per  cent.,  1  suppose?" 

"Why,  of  course,  we  have  got  to  have  money  for 
expenses,  you  know.  We  have  come  all  the  way 
from  Chicago  here,  just  to  help  to  do  you  fellows 
some  good.  We  are  your  friends,  but  you  don't 
know  it.    We  are  just  here  to  do  you  good!" 

"Yes,  to  do  us  goody  said  Dromio.  "Well,  the 
good  that  you  are  going  to  do  us  won't  be  anything 
when  compared  with  the  good  we  will  do  you,  and, 
as  it  is  getting  late,  I  think  I  will  start  in  doing  you 
good  right  away.  Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  and 
he  bowed  himself  out. 

"Good  night,  Dromio!"  they  shouted  after  him. 
"Don't  take  any  bad  money,  Dromio!  Ha!  Ha! 
Ha!" 

With  these  words  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  walked 
up  Broadway. 

The  next  day  he  organized  "The  White  Rats  of 
America,"  and  the  day  of  his  dream  had  dawned. 

Until  this  Society  was  organized,  the  artist  had 
always  been  at  the  mercy  of  the  manager  and  mid- 
dleman. It  was  the  forerunner  and  inspirer  of  all 
the  present  affiliated  theatrical  organizations  all  over 
the  earth.  It  disrupted  and  set  back  for  many  years, 
and  perhaps  forever,  the  aim  of  the  combined  Man- 
agers of  America  to  eliminate  competition  and  cor- 


l^autietiiHe 


71 


ral  the  entire  Vaudeville  profession,  then  in  its  first 
bloom  of  advancement.  It  raised  the  standard  of 
this  form  of  entertainment  all  over  the  world.  It 
saved  the  salaries  of  the  artists,  and  prevented  the 
effacement  of  their  individualities.  For  with  an  all- 
powerful  syndicate  on  one  side  and  unorganized  en- 
tities on  the  other,  the  Vaudeville  artist  would  have 
eventually  become  a  number  on  a  play  card,  placed 
to  be  read  by  the  audience  just  before  each  turn,  and 
the  Theatre  would  have  been  The  Thing,  and  the 
Artists  anything  from  Number  One  to  Number 
Ten.  It  taught  the  manager  that  the  artists  was  en- 
titled to  some  respect.  It  endeavored  to  teach  the 
artists  to  respect  and  love  each  other.  It  held  out 
hope  of  advancement  in  every  way  to  each  merry 
wanderer,  and  was  in  truth  The  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence for  the  Actor  for  all  time. 


if^ 


72  ®p  JLaDg 


IX. 

IT  was  Sunday  afternoon,  early  in  June,  Nineteen 
Hundred,  when  eight  Vaudeville  players  as- 
sembled in  the  cafe  of  the  Parker  House, 
Broadway,  New  York  City.  They  were  David  Craig, 
Montgomery,  Fred  Stone,  Sam  Morton,  Thomas 
Lewis,  Sam  J.  Ryan,  Mark  Murphy,  Charles  Ma 
son,  and  the  Dromio.  James  F.  Dolan,  the  Gipi5_y, 
was  out  of  town,  and  could  not  get  to  the  meeting 
except  in  spirit;  but  as  Charles  Mason  did  not  at- 
tend the  second  meeting,  Dolan  was  acclaimed  as 
one  of  the  original  eight  when  they  next  fore- 
gathered. 

At  the  first  meeting,  after  some  preliminary  talk, 
they  adjourned  to  David  Montgomery's  suite  of 
rooms,  upstairs,  in  the  Parker  House,  where  they 
all  took  off  their  coats  and  smoked  and  listened, 
while  Dromio  preached  to  them  for  two  hours  on 
the  advisability  of  a  society,  composed,  at  first,  of 
the  leading  Vaudeville  Artists  of  America.  He  pic- 
tured to  them  all  the  possibilities  that  were  within 
his  power  of  expression  to  explain.  He  showed  them 


^^tORlGINAtf,^^^ 


Jss.f.Oolan. 


TomLEw/s  „  /red  Stone. 

(^po.Fullermn  ^'^^''^'V^'^'  MarkMurph/. 


l^auDeUflle  73 

how  they  could  own  themselves  and  forever  be  pro- 
tected from  the  menace  of  syndicated  capital.  He 
dwelt  on  the  great  good  it  was  possible  for  them  to 
do  for  their  profession.  Everybody  present  became 
enthusiastic  over  the  idea,  and  each  member  offered 
many  good  suggestions,  all  of  which  were  noted  and 
remembered,  and  eventually  put  into  execution.  It 
was  agreed  among  them  that  in  order  to  be  sure  of 
their  ground,  the  Society  should  at  first  be  limited 
to  One  Hundred  members,  and  that  the  first  One 
Hundred  candidates  should  be  selected  with  a  view 
to  their  character  and  standing  in  the  profession, 
and  their  general  availability.  Therefore,  when  one 
objection  was  offered  against  a  proposed  candidate, 
he  was  slated  for  the  second  hundred.  This  plan  had 
the  effect  of  bringing  together  at  first  those  mem- 
bers of  the  profession  who  were  thought  to  be  most 
worthy  in  every  way.  At  the  first  meeting  Dromio 
referred  to  the  "Water  Rats  of  London,"  and  told 
how  they  had  come  to  his  rescue,  and  so  the  word 
"Rats,"  which  when  spelled  backwards,  spells 
"Star,"  seem  to  stick;  and,  as  there  was  some  joking 
about  Mark  Murphy's  snow  white  hair,  they  called 
themselves  The  White  Rats.  They  chose  this  title 
for  other  reasons  as  well.  The  title  was  afterwards 
thought  by  many  to  have  been  a  mistake,  but  there 
was  no  time  for  splitting  hairs  over  words  during 
those  early  meetings.  They  thought  they  had  things 
of  more  importance  than  titles  to  consider.    Their 


74  ^P  La  Dp 

welfare  seemed  to  be  threatened.  Their  profession 
seemed  to  be  at  stake.  So  everybody  was  thinking, 
and  thinking  hard,  and  once  again,  "What's  in  a 
name?"  So  Dromio  taught  them  the  Song  of  the 
Water  Rats,  which  was  a  chorus  of  a  few  Hnes, 
called  "The  Emblem,"  written  by  Wal  Pink.  They 
merely  substituted  the  word  White  for  Water. 

"And  this  is  the  emblem  of  our  society, 
Each  member  acts  with  the  greatest  propriety, 
Jolly  old  sports,  to  us  they  raise  their  hats! 
A  merry  lot  of  fellows  are  The  Real  White  Rats. 
Rats!   Rats!   Rats!   RATS.    Rats!  Star!" 

This  they  sang  over  and  over  again  with  great  en- 
thusiasm, and,  in  truth,  though  such  songs  are  mean- 
ingless to  the  outsider,  every  syllable  seems  charged 
with  a  world  of  meaning  to  the  singer.  The  same  is 
true  perhaps  in  a  certain  degree  of  all  anthems,  em- 
blems, and  most  college  yells.  So  the  eight  original 
White  Rats  sang  this  song  over  and  over,  and  after 
vowing  eternal  allegiance  to  each  other,  they  parted, 
like  so  many  merry  boys,  enthusiastic  and  joyful, 
with  high  hopes  for  the  future  of  their  enterprise. 
When  Dromio  reached  home  that  evening,  he  said 
to  The  Little  Gold  Lady,  "Well,  sweetheart,  I  have 
done  it,  at  last."  "What  is  that,  Dromio?"  said  she. 
"Why,  I  have  hitched  my  dream  horses  to  their 
earthly  cause,  and  there  are  seven  comrades  to  go 


l^aiiDetiille  '7^ 

driving  with  me  over  the  hills  and  far  away.  I  have 
blown  the  bubble  out  of  my  little  pipe.  Bring  Babs 
here,  till  I  tell  her  all  about  it.  She  likes  bubbles,  the 
same  as  I.  They  are  full  of  such  pretty  colors  for 
the  eye !" 

He  then  picked  up  his  little  girl  and  kissed  her  and 
said,  "If  what  I  did  to-day  goes  through,  dear, 
they'll  remember  your  Daddy  when  you're  a  great 
big  girl."  Just  then  the  door  bell  rang.  Dromio 
answered  it  himself,  and  there  stood  Mantwa.  It 
had  been  six  years  since  he  had  presented  himself 
to  the  Fool,  and  now  he  stands  in  the  doorway  on 
the  very  day  that  Dromio  had  opened  the  door  of 
his  dream.  They  had  parted  sorely,  each  obstinate 
concerning  his  own  opinion.  Dromio,  insistent  on 
following  his  Will-o-Wisp ;  Mantwa,  disgusted  with 
him  for  what  he  considered  disloyalty  to  his  higher 
self.  And  now,  just  as  he  is  beginning  to  see  light, 
here  stands  Mantwa,  the  Cloud.  The  meeting  was 
cordial  enough  to  preserve  the  amenities. 

"Hello!"  said  Dromio.  "What  are  you  doing 
here?  Come  on  in,  the  folks  will  be  surprised  to 
see  you.  We  have  discussed  you  much  since  those 
old  days  in  England." 

When  Mantwa  had  met  The  Little  Gold  Lady  and 
the  Baby,  and  they  had  talked  awhile  of  old  times 
in  England,  Mantwa  explained  that  he  had  come 
over  on  business;  had  just  arrived,  and  only  heard 
within  the  last  hour,  accidently  in  a  cafe,  of  the  in- 


^^  ^p  Lad? 

ception  of  a  new  organization.  "You  got  it  quick," 
said  Dromio,  "and  have  come  to  dissuade  me  from 
it,  I  suppose?"  "Your  supposition  is  correct,"  said 
Mantwa;  "that  is  just  what  I  am  here  for."  The 
same  old  cynical  smile  played  about  his  lips,  as  he 
continued. 

"I  have  come  to  save  you  from  yourself;  you  are 
making  the  greatest  mistake  of  your  life.  Of  course, 
I  have  heard  all  about  your  success  over  here,  and 
you  perhaps  lay  great  stress  upon  it,  but  let  me  tell 
you,  it  has  only  just  commenced;  your  career  has 
only  just  begun ;  and  now  that  you  have  a  chance  to 
make  something  of  yourself,  you  are  about  to  fling 
your  chances  all  away;  you  are  about  to  blow  into 
oblivion  the  only  chance  that  you  have  ever  had. 
I'll  wager  that  in  a  few  months'  time  you  will  be  the 
laughing  stock  of  New  York,  if  you  continue  in  this 
foolish  enterprise." 

"Well,"  said  Dromio,  "you  cannot  change  me 
from  my  course.  I  have  started,  and  I  am  going 
through  with  it,  come  what  may.  Come,  let's  talk 
of  something  else.  I  cannot  make  you  understand, 
and  you  cannot  convince  me  that  I  am  wrong." 

"There  is  nothing  else  worth  talking  about,"  said 
Mantwa,  and  his  voice  took  on  a  softer  tone.  "Cohk^, 
Dromio,"  said  he,  "you  are  my  foolheart,  I  am  your 
brains.  You  admit  that  I  have  taught  you  many 
things — let  me  at  least  teach  you  self-preservation. 
Listen  to  reason.     These  people  will  make  a  lot  o£ 


l^auDetjflle  n 

noise  for  a  little  while,  and  if  you  make  some  little 
stir,  the  powers  you  are  warring  against  will  begin 
to  use  their  money  and  influence  to  turn  these  people 
you  are  fighting  for  against  you,  and,  no  matter 
how  strong  and  true  you  may  be,  they  will  libel  you 
and  ridicule  you  into  your  grave." 

"You  don't  know  them,  Mantwa,"  said  the  Fool. 
"Your  knowledge  of  them  is  confined  to  cafes  and 
clubs,  where  they  are  as  cunningly  masked  as  when 
on  the  stage.  I  know  their  lives — the  real  under- 
current of  their  lives.  I  know  their  hearts,  their 
struggles,  and  some  of  the  things  with  which  they 
have  to  contend,  and  in  some  respects  they  are  the 
greatest  people  that  I  have  ever  known.  So  come, 
let's  talk  of  other  things,  for,  as  I  tell  you,  I  am  ob- 
durate in  this  thing,  and  I  am  going  through  with  it. 
Have  a  glass  of  wine." 

After  some  more  talk  Mantwa  left  his  address 
and  departed.  Dromio  went  to  his  room,  threw 
himself  upon  his  bed,  weary  almost  to  exhaustion. 
The  Little  Gold  Lady  sat  down  on  the  bed  and 
soothed  him  to  sleep. 

At  the  second  meeting  of  the  new  society  there 
were  sixteen  members  present,  so  they  elected  officers, 
Dromio  was  chosen  President,  or  Big  Chief;  David 
Craig  Montgomery,  Vice  President,  or  Little  Chief; 
James  J.  Morton,  Secretary,  or  Scrat;  Mark  Mur- 
phy, Treasurer,  or  Treasurrat.  The  other  officers 
were  Sam  Morton,  Tom  Lewis,  Fred  Stone,  James 


78  ^P  LaDp 

F.  Dolan,  Sam  Ryan,  and  Nat  M.  Wills.  The  office 
of  Chaplain,  which  Charles  T.  Aldrich  invested  with 
such  natural  dignity  and  sincerity  as  to  make  him 
ever  afterwards  beloved  and  esteemed  by  all  his 
Brothers  of  Laughland,  was  not  instituted  until 
some  weeks  later,  when  Dromio  had  finished  their 
Ritual,  and  he,  Charles  T.  Aldrich,  became  the  first 
Chaplain — Chap  Rat,  so  called.  At  the  fourth  or 
fifth  meeting  there  were  more  than  forty  members 
assembled,  and  as  they  grew  in  numbers  their  en- 
thusiasm swelled  in  proportion.  Everybody  became 
busy  and  anxious  to  do  something  for  the  cause. 
Like  Welsh  Bards  at  an  Eistedfod,  where  each 
singer  brings  his  heart's  best  music  in  his  ode,  so  did 
our  Fellows  of  Follyland,  who  had  found  each  other 
for  the  first  time,  bring  to  each  meeting  his  best  con- 
sidered thought,  to  be  adopted  for  the  common 
good.  Also,  everybody  hustled,  night  and  day,  to 
persuade  and  bring  into  the  fold  such  candidates  as 
were  eligible.  The  news  of  the  new  society  spread, 
and  applications  for  membership  poured  in  from  all 
parts  of  the  United  States  and  from  Americans  in 
Europe. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected,  of  course,  that  Theat- 
rical Managers,  or  their  dependents,  or  followers, 
would  look  kindly  upon  the  new  organization,  or 
that  the  Broadway  Willies,  who  wait  at  stage  doors 
o'  nights  for  their  Butterflies,  would  do  anything  but 
smirk  and  stieer  at  the  idea.     The  Managers  pre- 


l^auDetJflle  79 

tended  to  underestimate  it,  the  Willies  and  their 
girlies  laughed  over  their  lobsters  and  wine,  and  the 
sporting  theatrical  world  of  Broadway  at  first  gen- 
erally treated  it  as  a  joke. 

This  was  all  as  it  should  be,  and  naturally  to  be 
expected,  as  its  appeal  was  made  directly  and  solely 
to  the  Artists  of  Vaudeville :  to  those  who  "deliver 
the  goods,"  so  to  speak ;  to  those  that  the  public  pays 
its  money  to  see,  to  enjoy,  and  whose  services  are 
therefore  indispensable  in  the  amusement  world. 
These  people  are  not  manufactured  by  press  agents 
in  a  night.  Their  lives  are  spent  in  learning  how 
to  entertain  the  public.  They  are  known  as  the 
Standard  Acts  of  Vaudeville,  and  are  not  to  be 
classed  or  confused  with  Salome  dancers,  couchee- 
wigglers,  and  other  lures  that  middlemen  discover  to 
gull  the  public.  They  are  what  might  be  called  the 
staple  goods  of  the  amusement  world.  They  have 
learned  their  business,  and  have  become  successful. 
Oftentimes,  after  many  years  of  obscurity,  wherein 
they  continued  to  grind  out  the  laugh-essence  and 
heart-interest  for  the  amusement  of  audiences,  who 
accepted  them  as  a  matter  of  course.  They  are  the 
people  who  belong  on  the  stage,  and  who  came  there 
because  they  had  something  to  give.  Usually,  they 
are  versatile.  They  can  sing,  dance,  mimic  and  act. 
Yes,  they  can  act.  Whenever  they  appear  in  so- 
called  legitimate  productions,  they  immediately  be- 
come famous,  and  carry  all  before  them,  and  in  a 


8o  9^y  JLaDy 

short  time  their  Vaudeville  origin  is  ahnost  forgot- 
ten. So,  the  first  members  of  the  White  Rats  were 
these  standard  acts  of  Vaudeville;  the  class  that 
gives  the  legitimate  stage  its  greatest  and  most  ver- 
satile stars.  Still,  they  w^ere  Vaudevillains  then,  and 
the  possibility  of  any  organization  among  them 
tending  towards  their  uplift  and  protection  was  con- 
sidered foolish  in  the  extreme.  The  little  society 
published  a  prospectus  setting  forth  their  aims  and 
ideals.  This  was  rather  an  incongruous  pamphlet, 
considering  their  status,  as  it  contained  such  foolish 
phrases  as  Brotherly  Love,  Higher  Ideals,  Evolu- 
tion, Freedom,  Representation  in  Congress,  and  pro- 
jected some  minor  reforms,  such  as  protection  of 
original  material,  and  the  abolition  of  commissions 
on  salaries.  It  promised  a  higher  form  of  enter- 
tainment, and  a  general  advancement  in  this  sphere 
of  theatricals  which  could  only  be  secured  by  col- 
lective effort. 

Of  course,  this  pamphlet  was  unmercifully  -guyed 
by  the  subsidized  portion  of  the  theatrical  press;  and 
in  truth  the  language  of  this  pamphlet  was  some- 
what efflorescent  and  higlifalutin',  to  emanate  from 
a  class  which  is  generally  referred  to  in  the  slang 
terms  of  Broadway.  And  in  this  respect,  perhaps,  it 
merited  the  ridicule  that  was  heaped  upon  it. 

But  there  was  our  modern  Don  Quixote,  still  tflt- 
ing  at  his  Windmills,  and  using  large-sounding 
phrases.    He  knew  what  he  wanted,  forsooth,  odds 


l^autietJille  8i 

bodkins,  what,  ho,  by'r  lady,  and  what  he  wanted 
was  Freedom  and  Advancement,  Enhghtenment, 
Fairness,  Kindness;  but  there  he  was,  asking  for  it, 
in  a  redundant,  opulent  verbiage,  that,  perhaps,  re- 
called to  the  reader  the  thunderous  trifles  of  Tody 
Hamilton's  advance  posters  of  Barnum  and  Bailey's 
Circus. 

Once  more,  "What  fools  these  mortals  be!" 
However,  what  the  wiseacres  could  not  under- 
stand, was  the  seeming  paradox  of  why  Variety 
should  be  Unified. 

Meanwhile,  the  society  thrived. 


'<-*^ 


82  ^^  jLati? 


X. 

THEY  hold  their  meetings  now  at  a  large 
Fraternal  Hall  on  Twenty-third  Street. 
Dromio  finished  their  Ritual,  and  taught 
them  their  parts  in  it.  This  Ritaul  made  it 
clear  to  all  members,  once  and  for  all,  that  they 
were  organized  not  only  for  social  purposes  or  to 
temporarily  protect  their  salaries,  but  to  beautify 
their  lives,  uplift  their  profession,  and  own 
their  own  enterprises.  Many  who  were  afraid  of 
discrimination  had  said  it  was  purely  a  social  order, 
but  this  Ritual  changed  that  tune.  They  were  or- 
ganized and  solid  now,  and  he  felt  that  he  could  de- 
pend upon  their  loyalty.  He  knew  most  of  those 
early  members  personally,  so  he  taught  them  parts 
in  a  ceremony  that  told  them  without  restraint  who 
and  what  they  were,  and  what  their  destiny  should 
be,  and  how  they  should  do  their  utmost  to  deserve 
that  destiny.  It  was  really  a  little  symbolical  play, 
with  a  breadth  of  world-wide  Brotherhood  for  its 
motif,  and  written  in  such  a  way  as  to  continually 


For  I  hatbe  come  to  prophesy 
The  morro'w^s  golden  dd'wn  " 


l^auUetJille  83 

impress  the  players  of  it  as  well  as  the  candidates 
who  were  being  initiated.  He  himself  was  not  fond 
of  Rituals  or  ceremonies  of  any  kind,  but  this  little 
playlet  was  necessary.  It  appealed  to  them  as  wan- 
derers, who  coined  their  hearts  into  laughter  and 
song,  to  be  loyal  to  each  other.  It  asked  them  to 
ponder,  to  look  up,  to  think  of  the  higher  ideals  of 
life,  of  the  sweet  things;  the  good  things;  the  sane 
things.  It  asked  them  to  help  one  another,  and  to 
be  true.  It  told  them  that  they  were  a  Wandering 
Nation  of  Joy  Givers,  with  great  differences  in  their 
abilities,  and  that  they  had  only  themselves  to  depend 
upon,  but  that  they  would  all  be  together  in  the  end. 
It  had  in  it  quotations  from  the  Seers;  it  was  filled 
with  sweet  songs  of  long  ago;  of  home;  the  scent 
of  old-fashioned  roses,  and  the  glory  of  the  stars. 
There  was  no  frivolity  or  practical  joking.  The 
stranger  was  found  alone  on  the  desert  of  doubt, 
wrapped  up  in  himself  and  his  own  interests,  and  it 
opened  up  to  him  a  New  Kingdom :  the  kingdom  of 
Brotherly  Love  among  the  members  of  his  own  No- 
madic Tribe;  and  it  opened  his  heart  to  his  fellows 
amid  grand  organ  effects  and  welcoming  song,  with 
at  first  fifty,  and  afterwards  many  hundred,  voices 
in  harmony.  And,  oh !  how  they  played  themselves 
— these  mountebanks  in  those  days !  How  they  sang 
and  acted!  And  how,  inspired  by  each  other's  sin- 
cerity and  simplicity,  their  voices  unconsciously  took 
on  the  inflection  of  little  children  I    And  surely  when 


84  O^p  La  Dp 

the  lone  love  star  illumined  the  dark  desert  whereon 
ihey  wrangled  and  quarreled,  all  envious  and  jealous 
of  each  other,  and  this  same  spirit  of  starland  led 
them  into  the  happy  land  of  Brotherly  Love,  surely 
then  some  of  these  star  hearts  of  Laughland  felt  the 
breath  of  that  haven  which  is  home.  And  Charles 
Aldrich,  who  played  this  wandering  star,  that  led 
them  to  their  destiny,  had  a  voice  that  sounded  on 
those  occasions,  like  some  celestial  spirit  whispering 
words  of  hope  adown  the  listening  skies. 

If  there  were  those  who  did  not  understand  the 
meaning  of  the  S3aiibols,  they  wept  over  the  music, 
just  the  same,  and  few  indeed  were  the  initiates' 
who  finished  with  dry  eyes. 

There  was  no  oath  or  obligation  of  any  kind. 
Each  man  gave  his  word  of  honor.  When  that 
failed,  the  man  failed.  And  there  was  no  favoring 
of  any  creed  or  caste  or  class ;  but  when  any  member 
discovered  an  ability  to  further  the  cause  of  the 
Order,  he  was  given  an  opportunity,  and  encouraged 
in  proportion  to  his  efforts.  It  was  "One  for  All 
and  All  for  One."  They  used  this  phrase  of  "The 
Three  Guardsmen"  as  a  slogan  peculiar  to  their 
Order,  and  ofttimes  men  who  were  known  by  all 
present  to  have  been  enemies  for  years  have,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  Ritual,  shaken  hands  with  each 
other  amid  the  deafening  ai)plause  of  all  the  other 
members  assembled. 

On  occasion  of  this  kind,  the  elder  member  would 


l^auDetiflle  85 

approach  the  newly  made  Brother,  and,  offering 
his  hand,  say:  "Come,  Brother,  let's  be  friends. 
Here  it  is  'One  for  All  and  All  for  One.'  " 

And  there  have  been  dramatic  silences,  when  the 
newly-made  Brother  has  trembled  for  a  moment  in 
the  balance,  and  finally  broken  down,  or,  rather, 
finally  risen,  to  the  occasion;  and,  taking  the  prof- 
fered hand  in  his  own,  has  repeated,  in  a  quavering 
voice,  "One  for  All  and  All  for  One." 

This  always  brought  the  lumps  into  the  throats  of 
the  onlookers,  but  they  gulped  them  down  with 
cheers ;  and  it  is  a  question  whether  the  members  of 
any  other  class  could  be  so  affected  by  simple  senti- 
ment and  song. 

Surely,  these  mountebanks  remain  boys  forever. 

Though  the  membership  of  the  Order  numbered 
less  than  One  Hundred  when  they  moved  to  their 
new  meeting  place  on  Twenty-third  Street,  it  soon 
doubled  in  numbers,  and  hundreds  were  clamoring 
for  admission.  The  policy  of  selection  which  they 
pursued  attracted  the  entire  profession.  After  the 
Ritual  came  the  Constitution,  By-laws,  and  Rules 
of  Order.  The  membership  already  comprised  most 
of  the  best  acts  in  Vaudeville,  and,  incidentally,  it 
may  be  said,  many  of  the  best  fellows.  Their  new 
meeting  place  was  a  regular  Fraternal  Hall,  where 
other  societies  held  their  meetings  on  different  days 
of  the  week.  It  was  above  Koster  &  Bial's  first 
Music  Hall  on  Twenty-third  Street,  between  Broad- 


86 ^g  jLaPg 

way  and  Sixth  Avenue.  It  was  oblong  in  shape, 
with  a  stage  at  the  end,  on  the  right  side  of  which 
was  a  grand  organ.  To  the  left  there  was  a  parti- 
tion, with  about  five  feet  of  space  behind  it,  which 
ran  the  length  of  the  hall.  There  was  a  chair  in 
the  centre  of  the  platform.  In  front  of  the  chair 
was  a  dais,  where  the  Chief  presided.  On  each  side 
of  him  on  the  platform  sat  the  officers,  which,  in- 
cluding the  Dromio  and  the  other  Seven  First 
Members,  were:  David  C.  Montgomery,  Fred 
Stone,  Sam  Ryan,  Tom  Lewis,  Sam  Morton,  Mark 
Murphy,  and  James  F.  Dolan  (those  were  the  origi- 
nal eight).  The  other  officers  were  Chas.  T.  Aid- 
rich,  James  J.  Morton,  Nat  M.  Wills,  Ed.  M.  Favor, 
Harry  Linton,  Chas.  McDonald,  and  Ralph  Post. 
Besides  these,  an  old  minute  book  makes  record  of 
the  following  names  attendant  at  some  of  these 
early  meetings :  George  Munroe,  Hugh  Mack. 
George  Felix,  Junie  McCree,  George  Delmore,  Mil- 
ton Royle,  James  Richmond  Glenroy,  Jerry  Cohan, 
George  M.  Cohan,  Harry  O.  Hayes,  Tom  Nawn, 
Tim  Cronin,  James  J.  Corbett,  A.  O.  Duncan,  Jess 
Dandy,  James  Harrigan,  Walter  Leroy,  Colie  Lor- 
ella,  Richard,  Staley,  Frank  D.  Bryan,  Charles 
Arno,  George  Ramsey,  George  Evans,  Tim 
McMahon,  James  Cook,  Nat  Haines,  Marty 
Healy,  Fred  Helf,  Frank  Herbert,  Harry  Lu- 
kins,  John  W.  World,  Bobby  Gaylor,  Chas.  Sa- 
bine, Joe  Maddern,  Fred  Wayne,  Harry  Watson, 


l^aulJeuille  87 

George  B.  Reno,  Frank  Richards,  Bobby  Mack,  Er- 
nest Tenny,  William  Hines,  George  Lavender,  Pete 
McCloud,  Harry  and  John  Dillon,  George  W.  Day, 
Major  Doyle,  James  Donavan,  Eugene  Ellsworth, 
Harry  Foy,  Alf  Grant,  Mark  Caron,  Juan  Caidedo, 
Fred  Niblo,  Wm.  Keough,  Edward  Keough,  M.  J. 
Sullivan,  John  Rixford,  Connie  Rixford,  John  Con- 
roy.  Lew  Flatt,  Joe  Birnes,  Fred  Mardo,  Frank 
Gardiner,  Will  Hickey,  Stuart  Kollins,  Frank 
O'Brien,  Jack  Ashby,  Dan  Crimmins,  Raymond  Fin- 
lay,  Paul  Barnes,  Wm.  H.  Colby,  Si  Hassan  Ben 
Ali,  Chas.  Falke,  Arthur  Brock,  James  F.  Casey, 
Will  H.  Fox,  Henri  H,  French,  Dave  Genaro,  Fred 
Bailey,  Edwin  Garvie,  Will  F.  Denny,  Stuart 
Barnes,  Sam  Curtis,  John  P.  Curran,  Chas.  Case, 
Ward  Caufield,  Mike  Coakley,  Bernard  Dyllyn,  Phil 
Dorreto,  Arthur  Don,  Hugh  Dougherty,  Chas.  De 
Camo,  Robert  Dailey,  Joe  Doner,  Jos.  J.  Dowling, 
Wm.  Everhart,  Frank  Evans,  Chas.  T.  Ellis,  Ed- 
ward Esmonde,  Harry  Foy,  Joe  Flynn,  Mart  M. 
Fuller,  Alf  Grant,  Dan  Gracey,  John  D.  Gilbert, 
Jack  Gardiner,  Knox  Gavin,  Gerald  Griffin,  Eddie 
Gerard,  Nat  C.  Haines,  Herbert  Holcombe,  Mark 
Hart,  Lew  Hawkins,  Chas.  Harris,  Fred  Herbert, 
Frank  Hayes,  Harry  Hedrix,  John  P.  Hill,  Arthur 
Hill,  John  Jess,  Stuart  Kollins,  Arthur  Kherns, 
Chas.  Kilpatrick,  Kara,  John  Kernell,  John  King, 
Ed.  Latell,  Billy  Link,  Bert  Leslie,  John  Le  Clair, 
Dolph  Levino,   Al  Maddox,   Harry  Montgomery, 


88  ^j)  LaDp 

Chas.  Mack,  Leon  Morris,  Frank  Morrell,  Maxi- 
milian, Wm.  H.  McCart,  James  McDonald,  Eugene 
O'Rourke,  Joe  Pettingill,  Paul  Ouinn,  Wm.  Robyns, 
Arthur  Rigby,  John  Russell,  Pat  Rooney,  Julian 
Rose,  Peter  Randall,  Thomas  Ryan,  Al  Stinson, 
Mark  Sullivan,  Chas.  Stine,  Lew  Sully,  Chas.  Sea- 
men, Wm.  Seeley,  Walter  Stanton,  George  Sydney, 
George  Marion,  Edward  Tenny,  George  Thatcher, 
James  Tenbrook,  Walter  Talbot,  Jack  Tucker,  J.  K. 
Tobin,  Will  Vidocq,  Billy  Van,  Joe  Wilton,  Chas. 
Wayne,  J.  Royer  West,  Al  Wilson,  Al  Weston, 
Frank  Ward,  Jack  Wilson,  Ed  Wrothe,  Gus  Wil- 
liams, Frank  White,  George  Waterbury,  James 
Wall,  Odcll  Williams,  Clayton  White,  and  Wm.  H. 
Zeno. 

As  many  of  the  above  gentlemen  are  still  with  us, 
it  is  perhaps  sensible  and  in  good  taste  not  to  wax 
too  eulogistic  over  them  while  they  are  still  here. 
And,  in  truth,  if  the  good  actions  of  each  member 
who  gave  his  time  and  service  for  the  cause  were 
to  be  written,  it  would  require  many  volumes  to 
chronicle  them.  Suffice  now  to  mention  that  they 
were  all  in  earnest  and  did  all  in  tlieir  power  to  build 
up  the  Order  which  is  now  their  protection  and  their 
pride. 


t^auDetJille  89 


£arlg  Snala. 

XI. 

THE  first  two  members  that  circumstances 
subjected  to  the  acid  test  were  Montgomery 
and  Stone.  These  young  men  had  become 
very  popular  among  Vaudeville  patrons  in  all  the 
principal  cities,  and  they  were  engaged  for  a 
season  as  the  star  attraction  of  a  company  that 
was  booked  in  all  the  syndicate  houses.  The  man- 
ager of  the  company,  the  late  Mr.  Louis  Erick, 
who,  by  the  way,  was  a  fine  fellow  at  heart,  had 
been  at  great  expense  in  getting  out  original  pic- 
torial printing  for  them — several  styles  of  litho- 
graphic three  sheets,  etc.  They  were  to  be 
boomed  extensively.  The  company  was  one  of 
the  best  on  the  road,  and  their  salary  was  to  be 
the  largest  they  had  yet  received.  It  was  June.  The 
company  was  to  open  in  September,  and  they  were 
offered  an  engagement  of  one  week  at  Koster  & 
Bial's  34th  Street  Music  Hall,  which  was  an  Inde- 
pendent house,  whose  manager,  Mr.  Hashim,  did 
not  belong  to  the  syndicate.  And  though  their  en- 
gagement with  Mr.  Erick  was  not  to  commence  until 


90  90P  JLaUp 

the  following  autumn,  and  was  not  booked  to  play 
New  York  until  sometime  later,  they  went  to  Mr. 
Erick  and  asked  him  if  they  could  play  the  week  they 
were  offered  at  Koster  &  Bial's.  Mr.  Erick  saw  no 
harm  in  it,  and  gave  them  his  permission  to  do  so; 
but  when  the  powers  of  the  syndicate  heard  this 
there  was  red  fire  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  Mr.  Erick 
was  told  that  Montgomery  and  Stone  must  not  play 
one  night  for  Mr.  Hashim.  Mr.  Erick  then  went 
to  the  boys,  and  told  them  his  predicament,  and 
pleaded  with  them  to  cancel  the  week  which  they 
had  booked  with  Hashim,  but  they  had  signed  con- 
tracts for  the  week,  and  the  law  inviolate  of  the 
Order  was  never  to  cancel  a  contract  made  in  good 
faith  with  any  manager.  Montgomery  and  Stone 
were  personal  friends  of  Mr.  Erick,  and  the  latter 
did  not  know  how  or  where  to  secure  an  attraction 
equal  to  them  for  his  company.  This  affected  the 
boys  greatly.  They  did  not  say  much,  but  it  could 
be  seen  that  they  felt  it  deeply.  However,  they  kept 
their  word,  played  their  week  with  Mr.  Hashim,  and 
risked  being  blacklisted  by  all  the  combined  Vaude- 
ville interests  of  America.  Of  course,  Mr.  Erick 
was  compelled  to  cancel  their  engagement  with  him, 
though  he  remained  their  friend.  They  had  no 
other  engagement  at  the  time,  and  little  hope  of  any. 
They  were  not  overflush  with  money,  and  as  the 
Order  had  just  been  started,  it  was  not  in  a  position 
to  give  them  any  hope  of  protection;  and  yet  every- 


thing  that  meant  so  much  to  them  at  that  time  they 
blew  like  a  bubble  into  eternity  when  it  came  to  be 
weighed  against  their  words  of  honor  which  they 
had  given  to  their  comrades  for  their  comrades' 
cause.  Then  Tom  Lewis  and  Sam  J.  Ryan  did  the 
same  thing,  and  from  that  day  not  one  of  these  men 
have  looked  back,  and  surely  they  deserve  the  suc- 
cess they  are  now  enjoying;  but  it  was  the  prece- 
dent they  set  which  was  the  great  thing  at  the  time. 
It  had  a  great  effect,  and  nearly  anyone  of  the  first 
few  hundred  members  would  have  gone  through 
perdition  to  have  kept  his  word  with  his  fellows 
while  these  examples  were  fresh  in  their  minds. 

They  are  truly  fortunate  who  draw  the  prize  of 
courage  in  the  lottery  of  life.  It  is  great  indeed  to 
be  a  Nathan  Hale  amid  the  affairs  of  Earth's  great 
Arena;  but  on  the  little  mimic  stage  of  glamour, 
gauze  and  glitter,  it  is  not  so  bad  to  be  either  a 
David  Craig  Montgomery,  a  Frederick  Stone,  a  Sam 
J.  Ryan,  or  Tom  Lewis.  Sam  Morton  and  his  clever 
family  also  stood  pat  and  Jim  the  Gipsy  and  Mark 
Murphy  were  dateless  for  many  moons. 

Sacrifices  of  a  like  nature  were  afterwards  made 
by  many  members  of  the  society,  before  and  after 
the  crisis.  It  would  be  repetition  to  dwell  upon 
them,  and  mention  is  made  of  the  action  of  these 
particular  Brothers,  not  for  the  sake  of  lauding 
them  with  any  special  praise,  but  because  they  were 
the  first  to  encounter  a  trial  of  this  nature. 


92  ^p  JLatip 

It  was  on  account  of  men  of  this  calibre  being 
among  the  first  few  hundred  that  the  society  was  a 
success. 

The  members  soon  began  to  look  upon  their  Order 
with  feelings  almost  akin  to  a  religion,  and  the  more 
ridicule  it  received  the  more  closely  it  bound  them 
together.  They  knew  their  cause  was  just.  William 
Carroll,  one  of  the  Old  School,  prominent  in  his 
day,  Irish  Billy,  as  he  is  known  to  his  friends,  made 
a  speech  after  his  initiation,  and  said :  "It  is  the 
first  time  I  ever  knew  that  I  had  a  profession.  I 
can  hear  the  voices  of  my  old  stage  comrades — of 
Harry  Richmond,  Harry  Kernell,  The  Reynolds 
Brothers,  Delehanty,  Hengler,  and  J.  W.  Kelly — all 
calling  to  me  from  beyond  the  Bourne:  all  in  ac- 
cord that  this  is  what  we  should  have  had  years 
ago." 

The  Order  thrived,  and  grew  in  leaps  and  bounds. 
The  Managers'  Association  made  the  vital  mistake 
of  offering  much  reduced  salaries  for  the  following 
season,  and  this  enhanced  the  universal  desire  of 
Vaudevillains  everywhere  for  protection,  and  there- 
fore greatly  augmented  the  membership  of  The 
White  Rats. 

James  J.  Morton  was  an  efficient  Secretary,  and 
did  much  work  during  the  first  summer.  When  he 
resigned,  to  accept  an  engagement  on  the  road,  they 
elected  Frank  Lawlor  to  succeed  him. 

Meanwhile,  Dromio  busied  himself  night  and  da^ 


I^aunem'lle  93 

haranguing  the  mobs,  pleading  with  eligible  candi- 
dates to  join  the  fold,  and  explaining  things  over 
and  over  again.  He  was  very  proud  of  the  per- 
sonnel of  the  Order  at  this  time,  though  until  now 
none  of  the  big  legitimate  stars,  who  afterwards 
came  in,  had  joined.  Still,  they  had  most  of  the 
best  artists  in  Vaudeville. 

There  they  sat,  each  Sunday,  like  good  boys  at 
school,  with  bright  faces,  keenly  interested,  each 
with  his  own  idea  for  the  benefit  of  the  Cause;  all 
with  their  white  collars  on.  It  was  good  to  see  them. 
And  the  greater  they  were  in  their  profession,  the 
more  simple  and  natural  were  they  in  their  manner. 
There  were  among  them  famous  funmakers,  whom 
the  Dromio  had  admired  and  enjoyed  when  a  boy 
in  the  gallery,  and  younger  men,  now  become  cele- 
brated, with  whom  he  had  struggled  in  the  early 
days. 

Old  partners  and  old  friends,  all  joined  together 
in  one  band!     Surely,  he  felt  proud. 

Still,  "There  is  a  crack  in  everything  that  God 
has  made,"  said  Emerson,  and  so  it  befell  that  just 
as  our  Fool's  heart  was  filling  with  gratitude  for 
this  brief  glimpse  of  what  might  one  day  be  his 
dream  fulfilled,  he  meets  Mantwa,  and  enthusiastic- 
ally describes  to  him  one  of  these  meetings. 

He  tells  him  of  the  thrill  it  gives  him  to  look  out 
into  their  sincere  faces.  There  was  a  note  of  pity 
in  Mantwa's  voice  as  he  said : 


94  ^P  JLaDp 

"Ah !  thou  poor  dreaming  Fool  of  a  Dromio !  If 
the  sight  of  them  thrills  thee,  look  well  upon  them 
now,  while  the  novelty  and  the  mystery  of  their 
present  mood  is  with  them,  for  they  are  as  fickle 
as  you  are  fond.  Feed  your  eyes  and  heart  with 
them  now  while  this  tranquil  atmosphere  prevails. 
If  you  knew  humanity  as  I  do;  if  you  could  only 
see  a  little  ahead  of  you,  you  would  be  giving  your 
gavel  to  the  nearest  member,  and,  walking  away 
from  them  forever,  saying,  'Thank  God,  I've  done !' 
Are  they  gushing  over  you  yet?  No.  Well,  they 
will  be,  and  that  very  soon.  It  is  one  of  their  char- 
acteristics. It  is  the  second  spasm  of  the  farce. 
They  will  praise  you,  and  damn  you,  and  you  will 
be  roasted  to  a  crisp." 

He  would  have  continued  in  this  strain  had  not 
Dromio  left  him  abruptly  in  disgust,  and  for  con- 
solation sought  out  Jim  the  Gipsy,  who  always  en- 
couraged everybody,  and  whose  very  presence  sug- 
gested Hope  and  smiling  skies. 


l^auDetiille  95 


EFIj?  ®0oktn0  (§ffxttsi. 

XII. 

IN  the  Autumn  of  the  same  year,  1900,  The 
White  Rats  of  America  estabhshed  their  book- 
ing office  on  34th  Street,  in  the  Savoy  Theatre 
Building,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  engagements 
for  their  members  at  the  Independent  Theatres.  This 
was  their  first  business  move,  and  it  aroused  the 
wrath  of  the  mighty.  They  charged  their  members 
five  per  cent,  commission  on  their  salaries,  and  these 
moneys  went  into  the  Fraternal  Fund. 

Dromio  tried  to  persuade  them  to  accept  shares 
in  an  investment  fund,  in  return  for  this  five  per 
cent.,  said  investment  fund  to  be  used  to  purchase 
theatrical  enterprises,  especially  theatres.  By  this 
method  each  member  would  become  a  shareholder 
in  whatever  theatres  they  might  secure  in  proportion 
to  the  amount  he  would  pay  into  his  own  account 
for  booking  purposes. 

He  thought  that,  by  this  method,  the  members 
would  eventually  acquire  a  deeper  interest  in  the 
business  plans  of  the  Order,  as  by  gradually  and 


96  ^p  ILaDp 

almost  unconsciously  saving  to  themselves  what  they 
had  heretofore  been  paying  to  middlemen  for  book- 
ing purposes,  they  would  have  a  financial  interest 
in  the  Order  that  could  not  be  so  easily  secured  in 
any  other  way;  and  if  this  plan  had  been  pursued 
from  the  beginning  they  would  now  be  in  control 
of  the  Vaudeville  Theatres  of  America.  But  this 
was  hardly  possible  at  that  time,  in  those  days  of 
enthusiasm  and  excitement.  It  was  hardly  possible 
for  several  reasons.  Perhaps  the  outcome  of  it,  as 
viewed  in  the  distance,  was  too  huge  a  proposition 
to  be  thought  possible:  too  startling  a  revolution  to 
be  believed,  though  "a  consummation  devoutly  to  be 
wished."  All  through  their  history  they  had  served 
Mine  Herr  Director,  as  Punchs  and  Judys,  dangled 
by  him  to  delight  the  crowds  which  came  and  gave 
their  pittance  to  see  the  puppets,  not  to  see  Mine 
Herr,  for,  bless  you !  he  does  not  show  himself !  He 
is  too  busy  collecting! 

All  through  their  history — at  least,  since  that 
easily-imagined  impulsive  moment  when  Folly  was 
young,  and  their  Ancestral  Adam  handed  Mine  Herr 
the  hat  to  be  passed  around  among  the  possible  con- 
tributors, they  had  habitually  accepted  what  he  gave 
them.  All  through  their  history,  since  that  time, 
Mine  Herr  has  kept  the  hat,  and  Proteus  has  re- 
mained behind  the  scenes.  And  now,  forsooth,  in  a 
modern  age,  to  dare  ask  him  for  a  return  of  the  hatl 
*     *     *     This  was  too  muchl     And  the  daring 


^auDetJille  97 

dream  of  an  interest  in  his  booth!  *  *  *  Why, 
this  was  madness!  Besides,  there  were  still  many 
fearsome  ones — or,  let  us  say,  conservatives — who 
persisted  that  the  Order  should  be  purely  a  social 
one.  On  the  other  hand,  the  enthusiasm  of  some 
members  over  the  booking  offices  was  so  great  that 
the  higher  salaried  artists  said :  "Let  the  commis- 
sions all  go  into  the  general  fund  of  the  Order,  so 
that  the  smaller  salaried  acts  will  receive  the  benefit 
of  their  more  highly  remunerated  Brothers."  This 
was  generous,  but  it  thwarted  for  a  while  the  plans 
laid  out  for  the  purpose  of  securing  theatres. 

However,  the  booking  offices  were  established, 
and  some  of  the  members  were  booked  in  the  few 
Independent  Houses  then  in  existence.  All  contracts 
were  executed  by  the  Fraternal  Secretary,  Frank 
Lalor,  and  his  assistant.  Mart  M.  Fuller. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Digby  Bell,  who  was 
then  playing  in  Vaudeville,  joined  the  society,  and 
it  was  most  probably  Milton  Royle  who  inter- 
ested him  and  induced  him  to  join.  Milton  Royle 
had  an  appropriate  name.  As  a  man  he  was  both 
royal  and  loyal.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  mem- 
bers, and  most  earnest  and  intelligent  of  workers 
for  the  cause;  and,  though  he  and  his  talented 
wife  had  for  years  been  successful  as  players  and 
writers  in  both  Drama  and  Vaudeville,  he  had  at 
that  time  not  yet  written  the  great  successes  he  is 
now  known  by  in  America  and  England.     Royal 


98  q^p  jLaUg 

and  Bell  were  both  members  of  the  Lambs'  Club, 
and  as  soon  as  Bell  joined  the  society  he  was 
the  means  of  bringing  into  the  fold  several  mem- 
bers whose  prominence  begot  an  interest  in  the 
Order  that  had  not  previously  been  manifested  by 
either  the  press  or  public.  Brother  Bell  proposed 
Henry  E.  Dixey.  When  Dixey  was  made  a  mem- 
ber he  brought  in  De  Wolf  Hopper  and  the  late 
Maurice  Barrymore,  who,  in  their  turn,  were  the 
means  of  making  members  of  Nat  C.  Goodwin, 
David  Warfield,  John  T.  Kelly,  the  late  Peter  F. 
Dailey,  Dan  Daly,  Joe  Weber,  Lew  Fields,  Andrew 
Mack,  Joseph  Coyne,  Eddie  Foy,  Otis  Harlan,  Sam 
Bernard,  Happy  Ward,  Oliver  Doud  Byron,  Joseph 
Murphy,  George  Marion,  and  many  others.  This 
influx  of  successful  names  made  the  managers  sit  up 
and  take  notice.  Perhaps,  after  all,  something  might 
be  doing.  They  became  very  restive,  indeed.  The 
press  became  interested.  This  was  what  the  Dromio 
wanted.  He  knew  if  he  could  get  the  issue  fairly  be- 
fore the  public,  through  the  columns  of  the  daily  pa- 
pers, it  would  help  greatly,  in  the  case  of  any  possible 
crisis.  He  appointed  Paul  Armstrong,  who  has  since 
become  the  celebrated  playwright,  as  press  represen- 
tative, and  soon  the  papers  were  teeming  with  con- 
jectures and  predictions  of  the  possible  coming 
merry  war. 

And  now  the  Society  was  flourishing  indeed.     It 
is  generally  supposed  that  an  affected  dignity  and 


aloofness  from  your  erstwhile  fellows  are  two  prin- 
ciple characteristics  of  the  successful  Theatrical  Star. 
Yet  it  would  seem  that  these  big  names  of  the  merry 
world  deserved  the  success  which  their  talents 
brought  them,  as  they  proved  by  this  move  that  they 
were  capable  of  holding  truth  and  justice  above  this 
false  dignity ;  and,  in  truth,  with  no  possible  motive 
to  lure  them,  they  not  only  lent  their  names,  but 
gave  their  time  and  money,  and  exerted  their  best 
efforts  for  the  cause  of  their  struggling  Vaudeville 
Brothers.  Perhaps  some  time  in  their  lives  some  of 
them  had  heard  a  note  of  the  Nightingale's  Song. 
Who  shall  say? 

When  Digby  Bell,  whose  success  during  all  his 
career  had  been  gained  in  the  highest  priced  thea- 
tres, joined,  he  said  to  the  Dromio :  "I  am  amazed 
— positively  amazed,  I  did  not  believe  this  possible. 
I  will  do  everything  that  lies  in  my  power  for  the 
cause  of  this  Society."  And  he  kept  his  word.  De 
Wolf  Hopper,  after  his  initation,  made  an  appro- 
priate speech,  telling  how  grateful  he  was  to  be 
among  them;  and,  during  the  recess  called  Liberty 
Hall,  he  took  the  Dromio  aside  in  a  brotherly, 
and  not  a  patronizing  way,  and  asked  him  to  always 
call  him  by  his  first  name,  which  is  Will ;  and  from 
that  moment  Mr.  Hopper  gave  his  time  and  money, 
and  worked  with  diligence  to  further  the  aims  of  the 
Fraternity. 

The  same  was  true  of  Henry  E.  Dixey,  one  of 


loo  ^p  Latip 

America's  best  and  most  graceful  character  actors. 
Nat  C.  Goodwin  made  a  speech,  telling  how  proud 
he  was  to  have  served  his  apprenticeship  in  Vaude- 
ville. The  late  Peter  F.  Dailey  used  to  ring 
the  changes,  once  in  a  while,  and  make  the 
Lodge  roar  with  laughter,  relieving  the  tension  of 
seriousness.  So  did  our  loquacious,  witty  friend, 
James  Thornton,  and  the  late  Dan  Daly,  with  his 
droll  drawl  and  lanky  personality.  Also,  there  was 
the  late  Maurice  Barrymore,  the  brilliant  wit  of 
Theatrical  Bohemia,  ardent  in  his  enthusiasm,  and 
eloquent  of  speech.  They  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
the  organization  with  as  much  ardor  as  if  the  So- 
ciety were  some  gigantic  play,  with  an  all-star  cast  of 
several  hundred  parts,  wherein  the  lines  were  all 
spontaneous,  and  where  each  actor  was  the  author 
of  his  own  role.  And  they  were  indeed  playing 
parts.  They  were  playing  themselves,  their  deeper 
and  truer  selves,  in  a  little  scene  called  THE 
MOUNTEBANK'S  AWAKENING,  in  the  great 
play,  THE  COMEDY  OF  LIFE. 

Some  of  them,  the  brightest  and  the  best,  have 
now  passed  through  the  Mystic  Door,  but  they  have 
left  Meujories  behind  of  the  light  that  gleams  in 
kindly  eyes  of  actions  that  were  brave  and  of  duties 
well  performed. 

And  what  a  contrast,  to  be  sure,  do  these  real  fel- 
lows of  wit  and  genius,  and  breadth  of  vision,  bear 
to  some  of  those  unconsciously  humorous  charla- 


l^auDetjflle  loi 

tans  of  the  theatres,  who  lay  such  great  stress  on 
an  affected  dignity;  who,  having  less  than  mediocre 
talents,  must  needs  have  an  author  fit  parts  to  them 
as  a  tailor  fits  their  clothes ;  who  prate  of  AHT  with 
a  very  broad  A ;  who  are,  in  no  real  sense,  educated, 
and  who,  yet,  ye  gods,  gibber  of  Cultyah ! 

Well,  perhaps,  they,  too,  serve  a  purpose,  if  only 
to  present  a  contrast  to  men. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  observe,  in  passing, 
that  while  applause  in  all  its  forms  is  the  very  life 
breath  of  stage  people,  there  is  nothing  of  which 
they  are  so  fearsome  as  censure,  especially  if  it  comes 
in  the  form  of  ridicule ;  and  the  fact  that  the  above- 
mentioned  gentlemen  braved  the  ridicule  of  their 
artistoeratic  club  associates,  and  the  jeimcsse  dorec  in 
general,  speaks  well  for  their  manhood  and  fearless 
intelligence.  Not  that  they  deserve  more  credit  than 
hundreds  of  other  less  known  members,  but  that 
they  were  more  prominent,  and  lent  their  efforts  to 
an  enterprise  that  was  not  formed  particularly  for 
their  class,  and  assisted  their  professional  brethren 
merely  through  sympathy  and  sentiment  and  a  love 
of  fair  play.  And  that  their  association  was  very 
valuable  was  partly  owing  to  the  fact  that  their 
names  were  attractive  for  publicity  purposes,  and 
publicity  was  what  the  organization  needed  in  those 
days,  in  order  to  get  its  aims  and  ideals  fairly  be- 
fore the  public.  And  in  no  single  instance  did  any 
of  the  above  gentlemen  leave  the  Society  in  bad 


I02  ^p  jLaDp 

odor.  They  came  in  for  the  purpose  of  helping 
their  fellows  through  a  crisis.  They  remained  until 
the  battle  was  over  and  won.  Then  many  resigned, 
in  good  faith  and  in  good  standing. 

Meanwhile,  the  crisis,  if  crisis  there  must  be,  is 
still  in  the  future,  and  the  members  are  all  together, 
"One  for  All  and  All  for  One ;"  all  enthusisastic,  all 
confident. 

The  Dromio  says: 

"Let's  have  no  trouble  that  we  can  possibly  avoid. 
Everybody  must  keep  his  nerve.  Don't  let  them 
scare  you.  We  have  already  got  them  on  the  run. 
We  are  just  a  standing  Army.  Let  us  attend  to  our 
own  business.  Above  all,  do  not  let  them  make  you 
suspicious  of  each  other." 

At  this  time  the  Opposition  was  calling  him  a 
howling  anarchist.  However,  things  are  beginning 
to  get  warm.  The  Society  is  now  over  five  hun- 
dred strong.  All  Stars.  The  booking  office  is  flour- 
ishing. There  are  many  thousands  of  dollars  in 
the  Fraternal  Fund.  They  have  a  band  of  thirty 
pieces.  They  give  benefits  to  packed  houses.  A 
weekly  paper  is  being  talked  about,  also  the  pur- 
chase of  theatres,  if  necessary.  A  Carnival  is  pro- 
jected for  the  coming  summer,  during  the  dullest 
week,  when  their  services  will  be  least  in  demand 
by  the  managers.  The  Carnival  will  last  a  week. 
They  will  give  a  different  programme  each  day.  In 
arranging  their  bookings,  all  members  will  leave  that 


l^auDetiille  103 

week  open,  and  they  will  all  meet  together  and  hold 
an  All-Star  Carnival  in  Madison  Square  Garden. 
They  will  be  at  least  One  Thousand  strong  by  that 
time,  and  everybody  will  take  part.  Eminent  Actors 
will  be  Ring  Masters  and  Clowns.  Every  great  act 
known  to  the  show  world  will  be  there.  It  will  be 
the  first  gala  week  in  their  history.  The  receipts 
will  go  to  theatrical  charities.  But  this  is  the  point : 
They  will  all  be  together  for  once,  and  New  York 
will  know  they  are  in  town. 

Yes,  things  are  really  getting  warm.  As  soon  as 
the  news  of  this  contemplated  Carnival  was  made 
known  to  the  managers,  reports  came  back  on  wings 
to  the  Society  that  the  managers  would  flood  the 
country  with  foreign  talent  during  the  following  sea- 
son, and  that  all  members  of  the  Fraternity  whom 
it  was  possible  to  boycott  or  blacklist  would  suffer. 
Practically,  no  bookings  had  thus  far  been  arranged 
for  the  coming  season.  The  managers  were  perfect- 
ing their  organization,  still  offering  reduced  sal- 
aries (which  scarcely  anybody  accepted) ;  still  hop- 
ing for  something  to  happen  inside  of  the  Order  to 
disrupt  it.  And  as  this  hoped-for  disruption  did  not 
occur,  divers  plans  were  resorted  to.  to  bring  it 
about.  Emissaries  were  dispatched  to  Europe  to 
engage  acts.  Rumor  had  it  that  they  were  to  secure 
all  the  foreign  talent  available.  Also,  this  gossip- 
ping  dame.  Rumor,  said  that  amateurs,  and  all  sorts 
of  aspirants  for  stage  careers  were  being  tried  out 


I04  9^v  JLatip 

and  booked  to  take  the  places  of  the  regular  Vaude- 
villains  when  the  time  came.  If  these  purposely  ex- 
aggerated reports  had  the  effect  of  frightening  any 
timid  souls  into  submission,  it  was  not  evidenced  by 
their  actions  with  regard  to  the  Order — at  least,  not 
yet. 

And  now,  as  IMantwa  had  predicted,  they  began 
to  flatter  the  Fool.  They  made  all  sorts  of  fantastic 
comparisons,  each  of  which,  let  it  be  said  to  his 
credit,  he  resented  at  once.  Had  he  not  been 
warned  by  Mantwa?  As  he  himself  said,  they 
called  him  everything,  from  Moses  to  Moxie. 
But  it  was  not  for  him.  He  knew  that  many 
a  wiser  Fool  than  he  had  slipped  on  the  salve 
that  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  crowd  and  lost 
his  bearings.  No,  it  was  not  for  him,  this  hot  air. 
So  he  told  them,  in  honest  simplicity,  that  he  really 
deserved  no  special  credit.  He  was  really  one  of 
the  merry  masqueraders,  who  just  happened  to  be 
leading  the  cotillion.  But  while  he  was  being  praised 
in  the  Fraternity,  he  was  surely  being  damned  else- 
where. The  Opposition  branded  him  a  Dictator  and 
Dreamer.  Every  member  of  the  Society  who  would 
listen  was  told  that  the  Society  itself  was  all  well 
enough,  but  that  the  head  of  it  was  a  terrible  fellow, 
and  "Impossible."  They  said  that  all  matters  could 
be  easily  adjusted  if  they  only  had  an  agreeable  fel- 
low at  the  head  of  things:  one  who  would  listen  to 
reason.     And  tliis  was  true.     If  the  Chief  of  the 


l^auUeDflle  105 

Order  had  been  an  agreeable  fellow,  who  would  have 
listened  to  managerial  reasons,  the  Society  would 
have  been  made  to  order — for  the  managers.  Their 
press  representatives  wrote  articles  telling  how  he 
had  hypnotized  the  whole  profession,  and  aspired  to 
own  all  the  theatres  himself.  These  ebulitions  made 
the  Dromio  smile. 

Meanwhile,  he  borrowed  money  from  his  friends, 
chiefly  from  Claude  Bartram,  who  was  then  in  Ger- 
many, and  who  sent  it  by  cable,  to  keep  The  Little 
Gold  Lady  and  the  wee  bairn  in  food  and  raiment. 
This  was  necessary,  as  he  gave  all  his  time  to  the 
Society,  and  would  accept  no  remuneration  whatso- 
ever. And  though  fools  may  live  on  enthusiasm,  it 
is  a  physical  fact  that  their  loved  ones  may  not,  un- 
less, indeed,  they  also  be  in  the  midst  of  the  strife, 
and  buoyed  up  by  that  mysterious  unknown  ether 
that  fills  the  dreamer's  soul  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
other  desires.  Although  such  was  the  case  with  The 
Little  Gold  Lady,  still  there  was  the  wee  bairn.  The 
Little  Gold  Lady's  time  was  taken  up  in  adminis- 
tering to  the  wants  of  the  Fool,  soothing  his  tired 
nerves,  and  keeping  him  at  least  semi-sane,  so  that 
he  was  allowed  to  roam  abroad  and  pursue  his  devil- 
ish machinations  against  the  Holy  Power  of  Trusts 
and  Sacred  Syndicated  Greed. 


io6  gip  jLaDp 


XIII. 

So  the  work  goes  on.  Meanwhile,  the  Fool  con- 
tinues to  meet  Mantwa,  here,  there,  and 
everywhere;  on  the  streets,  at  the  clubs  and 
cafes. 

One  day,  as  they  were  walking  up  Fifth  Avenue 
together,  observing  the  medley  of  architecture  on 
that  thoroughfare  of  riotous  conceptions,  Mantwa 
said : 

"The  structures  on  this  street  remind  me  of  your 
foolisli  Fraternity.  Look  at  these  mansions  and 
houses.  Study  their  styles.  They  are  Greek,  Goth- 
ic, early  Roman,  Byzantine,  Old  English,  Colonial, 
Dutch,  Modern,  and  what  not — some  of  them  a 
medley  of  all.  Surely,  here  is  Variety.  In  order  to 
blend  them  into  harmonious  proportions,  you  would 
first  have  to  destroy  them.  And  so  with  the  mem- 
bers of  your  band  of  Yugendspeil,  who  are  as 
greatly  diversified  and  contrasted  in  their  personal- 
ities and  the  inner  workings  thereof — nay,  even  in 
the  outward  expression,  forsootii,  as  are  the  styles 


l^auDetJille  107 

of  these  structures;  and,  like  the  master  inliabitant 
of  each  of  these,  so  the  inner  spirit  of  each  of  your 
members  whispers  to  himself:  'Well,  if  I  am  not  It 
among  this  bunch,  I  am  at  least  somewhat  different.* 
And  also,  like  unto  these,  does  each  member  of  your 
band  make  his  front  for  show  purposes.  Only  in  a 
different  way.  How  absurd  it  would  seem  to  you  ii 
someone  said  that  all  the  dwellers  on  this  avenue 
could  be  taught  to  believe  in  the  same  idea." 

"They  do  believe  in  the  same  idea,"  said  the  Dro- 
mio.  "They  believe  in  gold.  Each  may  pretend  to 
believe  in  something  else,  but  they  are  all  one  as  re- 
gards the  god  they  worship,  which  same  is  Mam- 
mon. Yellow,  glittering  gold.  And  yet  these  men 
with  their  surplus  millions  know  that  in  this 
same  city  there  are  thousands  of  human  beings  starv- 
ing for  a  crust." 

"Surely,"  laughed  Mantwa,  "you  do  not  believe 
that  all  men  were  born  free  and  equal,  do  you? 
Surely,  you  do  not  believe  that  a  Russian  serf  is  as 
free  and  equal  as  an  American,  for  instance,  who  is 
the  outcome  of  seven  generation  of  thinkers,  do 
you?" 

"I  shall  answer  your  first  question  first,"  said  Dro- 
mio.  "I  do  not  know  that  all  men  were  born  free 
and  equal,  but  I  do  KNOW  that  they  should  all  have 
an  equal  chance.  I  do  not  believe  that  a  Russian  serf 
is  the  intellectual  equal  of  a  thinker,  and  the  reason 
why  he  is  not  is  on  account  of  centuries  of  oppres- 


To8  ^p  LaDp 

sion.  Who  were  his  oppressors?  They  were  of  the 
same  class  as  those  who  now  dwell  in  these  gor- 
geous, many-portalled  caves  on  this  modern  avenue. 
They  used  him,  instead  of  being  of  use  to  him.  Oh ! 
I  dream  of  a  day  when  there  will  be  no  serfs  or  op- 
pressors on  this  earth !  Of  a  day  when  all  men  will 
try  to  be  of  use  to  their  fellowmen." 

"But,"  said  Mantwa,  "as  regards  these  cave  dwell- 
ers, as  you  call  them,  who,  as  you  say,  worship  the 
yellow  god,  Mammon,  surely  their  deity  seems  to 
treat  them  pretty  well  in  this  life — which,  by  the 
way,  is  the  only  one  they  know  of,  and  perhaps 
they  interpret  that  as  a  sign  that  they  are 
right.  That  they  are  doing  right.  That  they  are 
spending  their  lives  in  the  proper  manner.  And  what 
should  we  believe  in,  if  not  in  signs?  They  take 
the  cash  of  life,  and  let  the  credit  go,  and  all  signs 
bid  them  do  so.  The  words  of  men  are  other 
things." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  Dromio,  "they  visit  these  tem- 
ples once  a  week,  and  pretend  to  worship  an  idea 
wholly  opposed  to  their  lives.  They  pretend  to  wor- 
ship a  Savior  who  drove  them  from  the  temple,  and 
who  gave  His  life  to  lead  them  into  opposite  paths 
from  those  which  they  now  pursue.  It  is  heart- 
breaking." 

"No,"  said  Mantwa,  "it  is  funny.  They  play 
their  parts;  they  keep  their  eyes  on  their  lure;  but 
you  have  come  to  my  point:  you  say  they  pretend  to 


l^aiiUetiflle  109 

worship.  That  is  it.  They  pretend;  and  that  is 
man,  pretense.  All  men  are  pretenders.  And  this 
pretense  is  a  wonderful  thing.  It  helps  to  make 
the  comedy  interesting.  But  what  is  most  ludicrous, 
they  all  pretend  to  believe  each  other's  pretendings. 
Of  course,  there  are  exceptions ;  those  who  have  faith 
in  legends  and  dreams.  But  you  know  what  nature 
does  to  exceptions.  And,  as  with  other  men,  so  with 
your  fellows :  they  also  are  pretenders,  on  and  off 
the  stage ;  they  don't  believe  in  anything ;  they  don't 
even  believe  in  themselves.  Most  of  them  would 
rather  be  some  one  else.  That  is  one  of  the  reasons 
why  they  take  to  the  stage.  Deception  is  part  of 
their  life.  And  they  will  pretend  and  pretend,  and 
you  can  do  nothing  with  pretense.  You  can  accom- 
plish their  advance  only  by  simple  faith,  and  faith 
is  impossible  with  them.  When  they  are  not  in- 
wardly winking,  they  are  in  doubt.  If  your  Society, 
during  these  days  of  enthusiasm,  they  may  all  think 
that  they  mean  to  be  loyal.  That  is  the  way  we 
are  constituted;  but,  as  Brutus  says,  'when  they 
should  endure  the  bloody  spur,  then  fall  their  crests, 
and,  like  deceitful  jades,  sink  in  the  trial.'  " 

"I  notice,"  said  the  Dromio,  "that,  notwithstand- 
ing your  cynicism,  you  seem  to  admit  that  these 
fellows  of  mine  are  not  unlike  the  rest  of  man- 
kind?" 

"Of  course,  I  admit  that,"  replied  Mantwa,  "and 
more;  they  emphasize  mankind.    Their  very  busi- 


no  0^p  JLaDp 

ness  is  to  reflect  back  the  follies  and  foibles  of  the 
rest  of  the  people.  They  are  the  epitome  of  the  pub- 
lic, and  therefore  more  difiicult  to  handle.  And 
often  they  give  the  public  its  cue  for  all  sorts  of 
crazy  innovations  as  regards  dress  and  vernacular. 
They  know  the  pulse  of  Momus,  and  in  catering 
to  the  general,  they  set  the  pace  for  the  frivolous." 

**Then  you  admit  that  they  have  at  least  an  indi- 
rect influence  on  certain  classes?"  said  Dromio. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  if  you  could  conceive  of  some  scheme,  or 
dream,  or  plan,  to  enfranchise  any  one  class,  or 
even  one  man,  from  a  state  of  moral  and  mental  tor- 
por, would  you  not  try  it?" 

Mantwa  shrugged  his  shoulders:  "I  suppose  so, 
if  I  believed  it  possible." 

"Well,  then,  listen,"  said  the  Fool.  "It  is  a  com- 
paratively insignificant  matter  whether  my  people 
win  or  lose  during  my  life,  or  what  they  may  do  to 
me,  so  long  as  a  Fraternity  can  be  perpetuated 
among  them,  so  that  they  will  eventually,  as  a  pro- 
fession, merit  the  respect  of  the  world.  It  is  like 
marching  an  army  from  darkness  into  light.  It  is 
the  same  as  founding  a  wandering  nation,  and  it 
can  be  done  with  a  few  precepts:  Look  up!  Be 
brave !  Love  each  other !  Own  yourself,  your  Art, 
and  all  its  enterprises!  It  matters  not  how  con- 
trasted their  personalities  may  be;  all  men  are  con- 
trasts, more  or  less.    The  souls  of  some  are  the  cul- 


mination  of  thousands  of  years  of  civilization,  while 
others  have  just  clambered  down  from  the  trees. 
It  is  certain  that  we  all  did  not  start  manward  at  the 
same  time.  While  some  were  still  in  the  protoplasm 
stage,  others,  who  had  started  thousands  of  years 
before,  were  taming  the  behemoth  and  building  tem- 
ples. We  are  the  descendants  of  both  the  old  and 
the  new,  the  experienced  and  the  nescient  ones,  and 
that  is  why  it  is  difficult  to  understand  each  other. 
Hence,  the  myriad  ententied  tragi-comedy  of  life. 
As  we  started  millions  of  years  apart,  we  are  still 
millions  of  years  from  each  other.  And  as  we  all 
wear  the  same  guise  of  bipeds  now,  no  man  knows 
another's  handicap  in  the  long  race  through  the  cor- 
ridors of  time,  and  therefore  no  man  should  judge 
his  fellow.  But  here  is  my  point:  We  are  all  un- 
conscious absorbers  of  each  other's  worth.  The 
lesser  must  profit  by  contact  with  the  greater,  even 
as  light  dispels  darkness.  And  all  the  light  that  has 
come  to  men  has  been  shed  through  the  spirit  of 
Fraternity.  All  the  religions  of  the  world  are 
founded  on  it.  It  matters  little  whether  they  kill  the 
leader,  and  serve  him  as  a  feast  to  the  enemy  or  to 
the  gods ;  so  long  as  the  idea  for  their  uplift  can  be 
perpetuated,  others  will  come  and  find  his  pebbles  to 
be  pearls.  Such  is  the  value  of  an  idea.  It  matters  little 
if  all  the  present  enthusiasts  of  the  earth  were  to  give 
their  lives  for  their  convictions,  so  long  as  the  idea 
is  perpetuated  their  followers  will  one  day  become 


112  Qip  LaUp 

great  enough  to  have  faith  in  each  other,  and  con^ 
fidence  in  themselves.  But  as  we  live  in  a  commer- 
cial age,  these  people  of  mine  must  first  own  them- 
selves. So,  unfortunately,  the  appeal  has  to  be  made 
to  their  pockets,  as  well  as  to  their  hearts.  Just  now, 
they  are  struggling  to  protect  what  they  have 
earned,  namely — the  commercial  value  of  their  rep- 
utations, and  prevent  the  very  effacement  of  their 
individualities,  as  well  as  to  save  that  which  has  al- 
ways been  theirs,  but  which  they  have  never  yet  re- 
ceived: A  certain  percentage  of  their  earnings. 
However,  here  it  is  seven  o'clock,  and  we  are  at 
125th  Street.  Let's  go  to  a  restaurant,  and  after 
dinner  I'd  like  you  to  come  with  me  to  Koster  & 
Bial's  and  see  the  show." 

"Right  you  are,"  said  Mantwa. 

After  dining  they  arrived  at  the  Music  Hall  at 
8:45  P.  M.  The  entire  programme  was  given  by 
White  Rats,  and  the  Fool  seemed  to  know  the  life 
history  of  each. 

The  second  turn  was  on  when  they  arrived.  A 
young,  slender  girl,  who  sang  songs.  The  audience 
was  rather  indifferent.  "She  is  what  we  call  an 
early  turn,"  said  the  Fool.  "She  gets  forty  dollars 
a  week,  when  she  can  secure  engagements,  and  keeps 
an  invalid  mother  and  a  consumptive  brother."  The 
next  turn  was  a  well-known  black-faced  comedian. 
He  was  a  success.  During  his  performance,  Dro- 
mio  explained  that  he  had  been  booked  for  a  season 


l^autietJille  113 

by  the  Syndicate,  but  had  been  cancelled  for  playing 
a  week  at  one  of  the  Independent  Halls.  He  had  a 
wife,  who  had  been  paralyzed  for  years,  and  whose 
side  he  never  left,  except  to  come  to  the  perform- 
ance. Then  came  a  sketch  team  (a  man  and 
woman).  "How  do  you  like  them?"  said  the  Dro- 
mio,  when  they  had  concluded  their  farce,  which 
went  big, 

"Oh !  they  will  pass  muster,"  said  Mantwa.  "They 
can  act,  and  they  both  seem  to  enjoy  what  they  are 
doing." 

"Well,"  said  the  Dromio,  "both  their  hearts  are 
breaking,  and  I  know  it.  They  have  struggled  all 
their  lives  together,  and  every  dollar  they  have  been 
able  to  save  has  been  spent  in  trying  to  save  the  life 
of  their  only  boy." 

And  so  on  through  the  whole  programme  the 
Dromio  continued  to  lift  the  curtain  on  the  sorrows 
and  sacrifices  of  his  fellows  in  The  Merry  World 
of  Make  Believe.  When  they  came  out  of  the  thea- 
tre, Dromio  said : 

"Those  are  a  few  of  our  pretenders."  Then  he 
said  good  night,  leaving  Mantwa  pondering. 


114  ^V  JLaDp 


XIV. 

((^WEETEST  days,"  says  Carlyle,  "Sweetest 
^^  days,  when  (astonishing  to  say)  mortals 
have  actually  met  together  in  communion 
and  fellowship;  and  the  man,  were  it  only  once 
through  long  despicable  centuries,  is  for  moments 
verily  the  Brother  of  man."  Ever  wider  burns  the 
flame  of  federation;  ever  wider  and  also  brighter." 
Golden  autumn  has  gone,  and  early  winter  is  here, 
yet  every  hour  enthusiasm  for  the  cause  grows 
fonder  in  the  Fraternity.  Telegrams  of  congratula- 
tions and  encouragement  pour  in  from  all  over  the 
country.  Nay,  some  grievances  are  occasionally  re- 
ported in  the  mass  of  missives  which  the  Secretary 
reads  at  each  meeting  to  the  members  assembled. 
Reports  come  in  of  ignoble  treatment  of  members  by 
certain  managers,  and  of  insults  to  the  Society.  The 
press  representatives  continue  to  howl  anathemas  at 
the  leader.  Also  it  is  suspected  that  some  spies  are 
in  the  Order,  paid  or  bribed  by  the  Opposition,  but 
one  would  have  to  be  a  lion  fox — an  eagle  and  a 


l^auUetJille  115 

ferret,  to  find  them,  for  it  is  peculiar  to  all  Frater- 
nities (Folly land  not  excepted)  that  any  fellow 
member  may  speak,  even  though  he  favors  the  Op 
position;  even  though  he  wards  off  every  stroke 
made  for  their  welfare,  and  turns  the  very  currents 
of  their  rivers  of  life  towards  the  shores  where  the 
enemy  is  armed  and  waiting.  And  though  one  may 
suspect  them,  until  positive  proof  is  at  hand,  one 
may  suspect  and  suspect.  Nay,  though  you  see  hell 
gleaming  in  a  fiend's  eyes,  until  you  can  prove  it  to 
those  who  see  it  not,  you  may  guess  and  guess,  and 
doubt,  and  then  you  may  lie  down  and  dream.  For 
are  they  not  Brothers  in  disguise?  And  have  they 
not  words  and  insidious  inferences  to  make  skep- 
tical the  faithful  and  cajole  the  weak?  We  are  all 
Brothers,  forsooth,  but,  alas!  there  is  no  Siamese 
ligament  joining  us  to  prove  it.  We  are  all  still 
some  aeons  apart,  and  it  is  appalling  to  consider  how 
few  have  led  all  the  millions  of  nonentities  through 
the  centuries  of  night  toward  the  dawn.  However, 
what  will  be,  will  be. 

In  the  Society  a  Board  of  Directors  has  been 
formed  and  a  Board  of  Electors.  Also,  a  Star  Cab- 
inet, mostly  composed  (for  business  purposes)  of 
members  best  known  to  the  public,  yet  not  without 
a  due  regard  for  integrity.  A  proposition  has  been 
carried  that  all  members  will  refuse  to  sign  for  the 
coming  season  any  contracts  containing  the  five  per 
cent  commission  clause.    In  negotiations,  they  will 


ii6  ^j)  Latii) 

first  insist  upon  their  own  (White  Rat)  contract, 
which  is  equitable ;  and,  f  aiHng  in  that,  they  will  be 
allowed  to  sign  with  any  individual  member  of  the 
Managers'  Association  on  his  own  individual  con- 
tract (minus  the  commission),  but  not  through  the 
Association  itself,  unless  the  commission  clause  be 
omitted.  The  managers  refuse  to  sign  either  the 
White  Rat  contract,  or  a  neutral  contract,  which  has 
afterwards  been  drawn  up  and  submitted,  and  which 
makes  no  mention  of  either  their  Association  or  the 
Fraternity  of  the  White  Rats.  The  managers  also 
refuse  to  do  business  as  individuals,  unless  said  busi- 
ness is  transacted  through  their  Association.  They 
stand  pat  while  the  days  go  by,  and  the  work  of  the 
Society  goes  on.  As  yet  there  is  no  abatement  of 
enthusiasm.  Many  candidates  are  initiated  every 
Sunday.  Many  speeches  and  predictions  are  made. 
Each  meeting  lasts  from  five  to  eight  hours.  Said 
five  to  eight  hours  are  of  interest  most  intense.  The 
coming  summer  Carnival  is  much  debated.  The 
band  plays  often.  They  sing.  They  cheer.  They 
applaud  each  other.  Confident  in  themselves,  they 
have  let  down  some  of  the  higher  barriers,  as  it 
were,  and  admitted  some  of  the  rank  and  file,  as  they 
were  called.  The  meetings  grow  more  noisy.  The 
arguments  more  heated.  Each  new  influx  of  mem- 
bers brings  in  so  much  more  steam,  and  so  much 
more  organized  flesh  and  bone,  yet  segregated  into 
clayey  masks,  each  with  the  label  of  his  craft  on 


l^auDetJille  117 

him,  and  each  supposed,  by  certain  philosophers,  to 
be  guided  by  a  soul  pilot,  all  of  which  same  are  to 
be  tried  out  during  the  coming  hours  when  the 
sifting  process  begins,  when  they  will  ascertain 
which  are  the  sheep  and  which  the  goats,  or  which 
the  lions  and  the  wolves,  or  any  similie  you  wish. 

Therefore,  let  us  take  one  more  brief  glimpse  at 
them  while  they  are  still  happy,  for  it  is  problem- 
atical whether  we  shall  ever  see  their  like  again 
joined  together  in  one  band.  Not  unless  the  Dro- 
mio's  dream  comes  true  and  man's  faith  in  his 
brother  man  is  born  of  his  own  desire  to  be  of  use 
to  him. 

There  is  nearly  a  thousand  of  them  in  and  out  of 
town.  In  other  cities,  all  over  the  United  States,  the 
travelling  members,  those  who  were  playing  engage- 
ments on  the  road,  hold  what  they  call  scampers,  or 
social  meetings — at  least  in  every  city  where  a 
quorum  of  Brothers  can  be  got  together,  and  at 
some  of  those  there  are  scores  present;  hence,  wine 
and  talk  flow  freely.  Reports  of  each  are  forwarded 
to  the  Lodge  and  read  at  every  meeting.  If  any 
student  of  sociology  could  have  taken  a  casual 
glance  at  one  of  those  home  meetings  at  this  time,  he 
would  have  been  amazed  if  told  that  they  even  pre- 
tended to  harmonize.  Especially  if  he  had  a  fore- 
knowledge of  the  temperament  of  stage  people.  They 
were  from  nearly  every  walk  of  life,  and  from  every 
groove  of  the  show  world.    Actors  who  had  played 


ii8  g^p  jLaDp 

"Hamlet,"  melodramatic  stars,  princely  salaried  op- 
eratic star  Comedians,  and  every  brand  of  farceur, 
from  the  light  and  airy  comedy  man  to  the  knocka- 
bout clown:  Patter  Men,  Sketch  Artists,  Posture- 
masters,  Jugglers,  Bicyclists,  Globe  Rollers,  Hoop 
Rollers,  Dancers,  Magicians,  Gymnasts,  Negro  Im- 
personators, Musical  Artists,  Acrobats,  Contortion- 
ists, Skaters,  Shadowgraphers,  Lightning  Caricatur- 
ists, Song  Writers,  Sketch  Writers,  Ballad  Singers, 
Shakesperean  Reciters,  Dog  Trainers,  Broadway 
Favorites,  Whistlers,  Wire  Performers,  Exhibition 
Swimmers,  Wrestlers,  Boxers,  Strong  Men,  Weak 
Men,  and  Monologue  Men.  All  now  in  Vaudeville, 
which  is  Variety.  Yea,  verily,  it  is  Variety.  Surely 
here  is  material  for  a  Babel,  and  yet  there  will  be  no 
Babel.  Babel  there  was,  and  a  plenty,  before  the  ad- 
vent of  the  Star  of  Fraternity,  which  will  lead  them 
from  the  dark  desert  and  the  confusion  of  many 
tongues  into  the  Land  of  Dawn,  where  they  will  all 
speak  the  one  language  that  no  slave  may  speak, 
the  Language  of  Brotherly  Love,  which  same  is  the 
Song  of  the  Nightingale — at  least,  so  dreams  that 
sad-faced  Fool  of  a  Dromio,  who  refuses  to  accept 
the  world's  idea  of  the  proportion  of  things,  and  who 
is  therefore  one  of  the  strangest,  if  not,  indeed,  one 
of  the  most  foolish  fellows  in  the  world. 

It  is  a  strange,  many-mannered  Brotherhood,  this 
Society  of  Stars,  even  as  the  stars  in  the  heavens 
are  great  and  small.    Or  like  the  sands  on  the  sea- 


l^auDetJille  119 

shore,  ground  by  the  waves  of  time,  from  all  the 
crumbling  rocks  of  life's  wonderful  ocean.  The  em- 
phasized epitome  of  all  society;  reflecting  the  man- 
ners of  all.  From  those  who  would  give  their  lives 
for  a  sentiment,  to  those  whom  neither  experience, 
plan,  precept,  or  example,  could  rouse  to  listen  to 
anything  but  the  voice  of  ridicule.  If  man  is  to  be 
modified  by  society,  surely  here  is  a  test.  Men,  who 
were  thought  to  be  wits,  because  they  phrased  the 
thoughts  of  their  betters  in  slang;  and  angels,  who 
paid  them  homage,  because  they  knew  neither  their 
own  worth  nor  the  methods  of  Charlatantry.  Life 
is  what  you  read  into  it  with  your  own  soul,  and 
there  were  those  among  them  who  read  the  spirit 
of  their  fraternity  so  clearly  that  they  felt  the  heav- 
ens lifting  them  to  higher  things,  and  of  their  "dead 
selves"  making  "stepping  stones,"  and  they  were 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  those  who,  hearing  only 
noise  and  confusion,  guessed  it  was  some  huge  joke, 
and  formed  cliques,  and  gave  them  names,  which 
parodied  the  name  of  their  Order.  There  were  cir- 
cus performers  who  were  seers  without  words,  and 
wordy  men  without  a  thought.  There  were  frivolous 
tragedians,  serious  comedians,  solemn  clowns.  The 
world-wide  and  self-centred.  All  the  lights,  tints  and 
shades  of  life's  phantasmagoria,  emphasized  by  fate, 
for  the  purpose  of  reflecting  back  to  semi-civilized 
man  his  follies  and  foibles ;  and  now,  though  still  as 
far  apart  as  the  stars  from  each  other,  all  in  one  sys- 
tem, for  the  first  understanding  in  Follyland. 


120  ^p  La  Dp 


XV. 

LOOK  at  them  through  Dromio's  eyes.  There 
was  that  happy  George  Monroe,  who  after- 
wards became  Chief  of  the  Order;  born 
to  be  a  boy  forever;  as  loyal  in  his  heart  as  clever 
in  his  work;  always  jovial,  laughing,  good  natured, 
yet  solid  and  immovable  in  all  matters  concerning 
the  Cause.  With  what  withering  scorn  could  those 
black  eyes  burn  up  some  adversary  suspected  of 
trickery  or  selfish  intrigue.  A  descendant  of  Presi- 
dent Monroe,  and  with  Scotch  seriousness  at  the 
bottom  of  him.  Sensitive,  impulsive,  quick  tem- 
pered, yet  on  the  level  for  all  that,  even  though 
the  earth  is  round.  To  such  as  he  the  Order 
is  a  serious  thing,  a  very  religion,  for  does  he 
not  insist  that  the  Prayer  of  the  Ritual  shall  be  read 
at  the  opening  of  every  meeting?  He  gave  the 
Order  the  best  password  it  ever  had,  and  indeed  the 
best  password  that  all  the  Brothers  of  earth  may 
ever  learn,  and  from  the  day  he  joined  he  worked 
earnestly  for  tlie  good  of  all.    A  good  friend,  and  a 


l^auDeUille  121 

good  man.  And  the  Dromio  would  also  have  told 
you  of  that  boy — that  mere  boy — who,  before  he 
was  eighteen,  had  all  the  world  singing  his  songs; 
who  sang  and  danced  with  his  sister,  acted  with  his 
father  and  mother,  played  the  violin  himself.  Who, 
in  his  early  twenties,  had  made  his  whole  family 
famous  and  rich,  and  himself  a  millionaire;  who 
gave  his  money  to  beggars  in  secret,  and  blushed  to 
find  it  fame.  Who  presented  his  old-time  friends 
with  fortunes  of  many  thousands  of  dollars  at  a 
time  when  they  were  in  need,  and  secretly  arranged 
so  that  others  of  his  afflicted  fellows  should  Uave 
incomes  for  life.  Who  organized  worthy  charities 
and  institutions  for  newsboys  and  waifs,  and  who, 
when  rich  and  famous,  sold  papers  on  the  street  at 
$100  apiece  for  those  in  distress.  Who,  as  a  boy, 
wrote  all  the  best  sketches  and  songs  in  Vaudeville 
and  many  musical  plays.  Who  created  innovations  in 
play  writing;  who  drew  characters  as  he  saw  them  in 
life,  then  engaged  the  very  originals  and  let  them 
play  themselves;  who  wrote  the  book,  music,  lyrics, 
designed  the  costumes,  taught  the  chorus,  staged 
and  directed  everyone  of  his  own  creations,  and 
whose  career  has  only  just  begun. 

Not  always  is  genius  combined  with  that  true 
greatness  of  heart,  called  sympathy.  However,  it 
is  certain  that  he  never  forgot  a  friend  or  bothered 
to  remember  an  enemy.  In  future  years  his  career 
will  read  something  like  a  modern  fairy  tale.     So 


122  ^^  jtaDp 

one  cannot  but  wonder  how  the  aesthetic,  mental 
anaemics  of  Theatredom  are  ever  going  to  encom- 
pass a  natural  star  of  this  magnitude.  He  is  more 
than  a  genius,  he  is  a  man,  and  a  friend  of  his  fel- 
low-man, and  this  outweighs  all  the  genius  in  the 
world.  A  glimpse  of  his  heart  may  be  gleaned  from 
the  following  remark :  "All  I  want  to  do  is  to  work, 
and  learn,  and  make  people  happy."  And  that  he  is 
living  up  to  this  principle  is  evidenced  by  the  fact 
that,  without  needing  to  do  so,  he  is  still  working 
himself  to  a  shred  to  keep  that  thankless,  thought- 
less many-mooded  jade,  the  Public,  laughing,  while 
she  little  dreams  that  much  of  that  which  she  pays 
for  her  merriment  goes  through  his  hands  to  those 
who  have  burnt  themselves  out  in  her  service.  All 
this  the  Dromio  would  have  told  you  about  George 
M.  Cohan.  Then  there  was  his  father,  Jeremiah,  dear 
old  Jerry,  who  struggled  all  his  life,  ahead  of  his 
time,  but  who  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  all  of 
his  ambitions  evolved,  and  recognized  by  the  world, 
in  the  person  of  his  boy,  and  his  highest  hopes  ful- 
filled in  the  destinies  of  his  dainty  daughter 
Josephine. 

Good  Hugh  Mack  was  also  one  of  the  very  earli- 
est members,  unswerving  and  zealous  at  all  times 
for  the  Cause.  It  is  too  bad  to  pass  this  man  up 
with  a  line,  as  he  is  worthy  of  a  book.  He  did  much 
in  his  way  for  the  Society,  and  his  way  was  always 
the  right  way,  the  kind  way.    Hugh  was  the  good 


l^auDeDille  123 

Samaritan.  When  anyone  was  ill  or  in  need,  always 
the  cry  was,  "Appoint  Hugh  Mack  as  a  committee 
of  one!  He  will  investigate."  And  it  was  Hugh 
himself  who  was  always  searching  for  those  cases 
of  distress,  and  always  caring  for  them.  Hugh 
Mack  is  a  simple  fellow,  and  plain,  but  he  has  that 
greater  wisdom,  the  wisdom  of  the  heart. 

There  was  Junie  McCree,  artist  to  his  finger 
tips,  and  greater  as  a  man  than  artist.  He  would 
have  made  a  success  in  any  other  profession  as 
well  as  this.  Brains  are  in  his  head,  and  wit  upon 
his  lips.  He  is  the  principal  star  of  a  coterie  whose 
business  it  is  to  keep  the  Order  laughing;  some,  with 
quip  and  quirp  of  repartee;  some,  with  slang,  fly, 
up-to-date  gibberage,  understood  only  in  Follyland, 
and  others  with  mere  clowning.  But  Junie's  humor, 
like  his  characters  and  caricatures,  is  artistic. 

Colie  Lorella  was  a  good  committee  worker,  and 
a  fighter  from  'way  back,  very  decided  in  his  con- 
victions, quick  tempered,  and  of  expression  most  in- 
tense. His  language  was  of  the  vernacular  persua- 
sion, and  at  times  quite  picturesque.  An  anecdote 
will  best  explain  him.  He  hated  any  kind  of  sham, 
hypocrisy  or  sophistry,  or  double  dealing,  and  one 
day  he  was  telling  the  Chief  his  opinion  of  certain 
members  whose  duplicity  he  suspected,  and  he  did 
not  mince  his  words.  The  Chief  was  in  the  habit 
of  illustrating  his  points  with  quotations  from  the 
Masters.    He  would  say,  "as  Emerson  says,"  or  "as 


124  ^1?  Ha  Dp 

Shakespeare  says,"  etc.,  and  this  day,  when  Colie 
had  worked  himself  into  a  frenzy  by  calHng  the 
suspected  ones  every  name  in  his  vocabulary,  he  fin- 
ished by  pounding  himself  on  the  chest,  and  yelling 
to  the  Chief :  "And  that  ain't  Emerson,  or  Tenny- 
son, or  Hicks,  or  Blicks,  or  anybody  else  but  me! 
That's  Colie  Lorella,  that  is!  Just  plain  Colie  Lo- 
rella !  and  it  goes !" 

Special  mention  should  be  made  of  Walter  Le  Roy 
and  George  Felix,  neither  of  whom  ever  missed  a 
meeting,  and  both  of  whom  did  all  in  their  power 
for  the  upbuilding  of  the  Society,  as  did  clever 
Georgie  Evans,  The  Honey  Boy;  and  Fred  Niblo, 
with  his  bright  ideas;  and  Richard  Staley,  who  gave 
many  hundreds  of  dollars  to  the  Society,  and  worked 
like  a  Trojan  for  the  general  welfare.  So  did  Nat 
M.  Wills,  with  money  and  brains ;  and  James  Harri- 
gan,  first  and  best  Tramp  Juggler;  and  Horace 
Goldin,  the  great  illusionist;  and  George  Delmore, 
Dromio's  friend,  staunch  and  true  to  the  core;  also 
his  partner,  J.  W.  Lee,  and  the  perennial  Bobby  Gay- 
lor,  a  boy  of  fifty-odd  summers;  the  Burke  Broth- 
ers, Harry  O.  Hayes  and  Marty  Healy,  Eugene 
Ellsworth,  Todd  Judge,  Harry  Luken,  Bobby  Mack, 
Tom  Nawn,  John  Ransone,  Ed  Provost,  Harry 
Stanley,  Raymond  Teal  and  Freddy  Wanne,  Joe 
Birnes,  whose  integrity  in  the  Investment  Fund  will 
not  soon  be  forgotten;  Ed  Keough,  later  on  to  be- 
come the  Sherlock  Holmes  of  Starland;  and  big- 


l^auDetJflle  125 

little  Major  Doyle;  and  that  other  original  ferret, 
Ralph  Post.  Then  there  was  John  World,  who  gave 
his  whole  self  to  the  Order  at  all  times,  and  rendered 
great  service,  as  did  Frank  Gardner,  Jess  Dandy, 
Fred  Hyland,  William  Keough,  M.  J.  Sullivan,  John 
Conroy,  Charles  McDonald,  Ramsey  and  Arno,  The 
Rixford  Brothers,  Sam  Sidman,  whose  good  work 
helped  the  Order  greatly;  Lew  Flatt,  the  Powers 
Brothers,  Fred  Mardo,  the  stoic  philosopher;  and 
the  late  Paul  Dresser,  who  wrote  sweet,  homely 
songs  that  will  wet  the  cheeks  of  all  Americans 
for  many  years  to  come;  also  Mart  M,  Fuller, 
who,  in  the  after  dark  days,  always  gathered 
a  quorum  together  every  Sunday  so  that  the  Order 
never  missed  a  meeting,  and  who,  after  two  years' 
constant  fighting,  carried  his  proposition  to  let  the 
negligent  members  back  in  the  fold  in  the  form  of 
reinstatement.  Then  there  were  Tim  McMahon, 
with  his  stories  always  on  tap,  and  Ren  Shields, 
Bohemia's  best  clown  off  the  stage,  barring  little 
Johnny  Stanley,  who  ties  him  for  fun  at  the  Rat's 
Scampers;  and  that  ever-smiling  genius  of  mirth, 
Eddie  Foy,  who  helps  to  keep  the  world  so  young. 
Some  men  say,  "I  am  for  my  Country;"  Henry 
George  said,  "I  am  for  Men."  Eddie  says,  "I  am 
for  the  Actor." 

These  were  the  true  Knights  of  Starland.  These 
were  the  men  who  kept  the  Society's  heart  beating  in 
after  years,  when  oxygen  was  necessary.     When, 


126  ^P  Laup 

after  the  crisis,  people  said  that  the  Order  was  dead, 
these  men  said,  most  emphatically,  "No!  it  lives! 
We  are  its  heart!  Look  at  us!"  And  against  ridi- 
cule, mockery,  sneers  and  intimidations,  they  held 
the  rudder  true  through  all  the  dark  hours.  Un- 
conscious of  their  own  true  worth,  "as  all  true 
worthies  are,"  they  themselves  little  knew  the  good 
they  accomplished.  And,  as  in  proportion  to  educa- 
tional value,  will  the  ripened  blossoms  of  this  early 
loyalty  inure  to  the  benefit  of  all  the  public  (if  only 
by  reflection),  neither  their  profession  nor  the  world 
may  ever  know  the  debt  of  gratitude  they  owe  to 
these  men.  What  a  wonderful  thing  is  a  constant 
heart ! 

It  is  worth  remarking,  also,  among  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Fraternity,  those  who  were  most  profic- 
ient in  their  work  on  the  stage  were  those  who  were 
most  loyal  and  faithful  to  the  Cause  of  their  Order; 
and  what  is  more  remarkable  still,  each  year  has 
brought  everyone  of  them  still  greater  success  since 
those  days. 

Of  course,  among  them  were  some  uncon- 
sciously humorous  characters,  as,  for  instance, 
James  Cook,  or  Cookie,  as  they  called  him.  Well- 
known  as  a  good  performer  in  his  business,  as  the 
saying  goes,  and  well  liked  by  everybody.  He  was 
an  acrobatic  comedian,  and  possessed  what  is  called, 
in  circus  phraseology,  "a  great  shoulder  lift,"  which 
means  that  he  was  springy  and  lofty  in  his  jumping, 


l^auDetiillc  127 

tumbling  and  high  kicking;  and  it  is  a  fact  that 
Cookie  would  rather  jump  over  a  fence  when  he 
came  to  it  than  walk  through  the  best  gate  that  ever 
swung  on  hinges.  He  was  a  gladsome  person,  this 
Cookie,  of  an  exuberant,  good-natured  disposition, 
very  enthusiastic,  very  intense,  and,  let  it  be  said  to 
his  everlasting  credit,  he  was  sincere.  However,  when 
talking,  he  had  the  strangely  unfortunate  habit  of 
illustrating  his  words  with  violent  actions  and  ges- 
ticulations. This  made  it  difficult  for  people  to  listen 
to  him  without  smiling,  and  the  more  serious  he  be- 
came, the  more  laughable  he  appeared.  He  was 
thick-set  and  swingy.  If  he  said,  "Don't  get  chesty !" 
he  would  expand  his  own  chest  several  inches,  to 
illustrate  what  he  meant.  A  product  of  the  old  Va- 
riety days — except  for  the  fact  that  he  chewed  to- 
bacco— his  habits  were  temperate;  though  the  same 
could  not  be  said  of  his  speech  or  actions.  He  was 
one  of  those  many  merry  men  who  stand  in  groups 
on  corners  and  settle  all  theatrical  questions.  With 
his  white  Melton  double-breasted  box  coat,  derby 
hat,  tilted  to  one  side,  one  glove  half  pulled  on,  and 
twirling  his  cane  with  the  other  hand.  Whenever 
he  stood  still,  which  was  seldom,  he  would  cross  one 
foot  over  the  other,  put  his  cane  behind  him,  and  sit 
on  the  handle  of  it.  Whenever  he  started  to  talk,  he 
began  to  walk  up  and  down,  and  twirl  his  cane. 
When  he  became  emphatic,  he  would  slash  the  air 
with  it,  and  he  was  always  emphatic.     In  the  So- 


128  Q^p  JLatip 

ciety.  Cookie  was  always  burning  to  make  a  speech, 
but  his  violent  manner  usually  aroused  such  hilarity 
that  he  was  never  able  to  proceed  very  far  before  he 
would  be  laughed  down  and  out,  or  ruled  out  of 
order.  One  day,  in  the  middle  of  a  speech,  he  was 
telling  about  side-stepping  some  one,  and  he  jumped 
sideways  half-way  across  the  hall,  and  although  he 
was  dead  serious,  the  roar  of  laughter  that  followed 
this  action  drowned  all  further  words  that  he  fain 
would  have  uttered.  And  so  it  ever  was  with 
Cookie :  he  was  never  able  to  make  a  speech.  Well, 
never  mind.  Cookie,  it  is  not  your  heart  they  are 
laughing  at,  it  is  your  way;  and  many  another  of 
us  are  handicapped  by  our  ways.  There  are  many 
things  we  would  love  to  do,  yet  cannot  do  seem- 
ingly or  gracefully;  as,  for  instance,  write  a  book 
or  poem,  telling  the  story  of  our  own  world,  the 
only  world  that  any  of  us  may  know.  We  are  all 
in  a  way  just  as  unconsciously  ludicrous  as  you, 
Cookie,  and  quite  as  incongruous,  though  most  of 
us  don't  know  it,  and  therein  is  the  blessing;  a  bless- 
ing for  you,  and  for  us,  Cookie — a  blessing  for 
us  all. 


Pautiem'Ue  129 


XVI. 

THE  Vaudeville  Managers'  Association  at  that 
time  had  divided  itself  into  two  parts, 
the  Eastern  and  the  Western  Branches,  they 
were  called.  The  Eastern  Branch  was  comprised 
of  the  Managers  of  all  the  Vaudeville  Theatres 
east  of  Chicago.  The  Western  Branch  of  all 
the  Vaudeville  in  the  blustering  western  Metropo- 
lis, and  of  all  those  cities  west  of  it,  clear  to  Los 
Angeles.  Report  had  it  that  there  had  been  much 
strife  among  the  proprietors  of  those  amuse- 
ment booths  all  over  the  country,  not  only  in  dif- 
ferences of  opinion  between  the  two  Branches,  but 
the  individual  members  of  each  branch  found 
it  difficult  to  agree.  Their  troubles  had  been  very 
serious  at  times,  and  many  had  threatened  to  re- 
sign; and  a  delegate  from  the  Eastern  to  the 
Western  Branch  (who  journeyed  thither  for  the 
purpose  of  pouring  oil  on  the  troubled  waters  of 
the  West),  had  been  flatly  told  that  the  Eastern 
members    were    a    buncli  of  chumps    (or    worse) 


130  ^p  La  Dp 

for  allowing  the  White  Rats  to  grow  up  under 
their  very  noses;  and  though  there  were  less 
than  a  score  of  these  managers  all  told,  they  had  ex- 
perienced much  difficulty  in  keeping  together  after 
the  White  Rats  got  started,  even  more  than  the 
many  hundreds  of  merry  makers  who,  as  has  been 
remarked,  came  from  everywhere  and  nowhere — 
from  every  walk  in  life,  and  from  all  over  the 
earth.  As  to  one  thing  they  were  all  agreed,  how- 
ever, and  that  was  that  the  Society  of  the  White 
Rats  must  be  wiped  out  in  some  way.  And  now 
comes  to  the  Fraternity  the  disquieting  news  that 
certain  of  its  members  are  signing  the  regulation 
contract  of  the  Association,  and  accepting  the  five 
per  cent,  commission  clause  surreptitiously.  Enter, 
Fear.  Right  First  Entrance.  For  the  first  time  this 
most  awful  guest — this  most  ghastly  ghost  that  ever 
visited  earth,  or  man,  nation,  or  Society,  now  makes 
his  appearance,  and  takes  the  centre  of  the  stage. 
Fear  of  each  other.  That  is  his  name — SUS- 
PICION. Who  are  the  members  who  have  signed 
these  contracts?  Accusations  are  made,  names  are 
given,  denials  come  forth  promptly  and  hotly,  the 
turmoil  commences.  A  motion  is  carried  that  all 
contracts,  with  whomsoever  made,  shall  be  brought 
to  the  booking  offices  of  the  Society,  and  placed  in 
the  safe  as  proof  of  sincerit}'.  This  also  proves  of 
no  avail.  Soon  many  are  accepting  engagements, 
and  are  playing  for  the  Association,  but  there  are 


l^auDetJille  131 

few,  if  any,  contracts  in  the  safe  of  the  Society. 
Many  reasons  are  given  as  to  why  they  would  pre- 
fer to  keep  their  own  contracts,  but  all  swear  that 
they  have  not  signed  a  contract  with  a  commission 
clause  in  it  since  the  edict  went  forth.  Some  admit 
that  they  are  paying  commissions  to  the  Association, 
but  they  say  they  were  booked  before  it  was  ruled 
otherwise  in  the  Order.  They  are  not  by  many  be- 
lieved. At  all  events,  their  contracts  are  not  in  the 
safe  of  the  Society.  Preachments  are  made,  de- 
claring this  law  to  be  a  circumscription  of  individual 
liberty.  Paul  Armstrong  has  been  working  hard 
with  the  press  men.  The  issue  is  now  fairly  before 
the  public.  It  is  all  about  five  per  cent,  commission 
on  their  salaries.  (Oh !  was  it?)  Everybody  knows 
it  is  not  fair  to  engage  a  person  for  One  Hundred 
Dollars  per  week,  and  only  pay  him  Ninety-five. 
(Ah!  if  this  were  all.)  It  is  whispered  that  Mr.  B. 
F.  Keith,  President  of  the  Managers'  Association, 
is  not  in  favor  of  commissions.  Still,  the  clause  re- 
mains, and  members  are  playing  at  the  Keith 
Houses  and  elsewhere  for  the  Association,  and  their 
contracts  are  Not  in  the  safe.  So  another  proposi- 
tion goes  through,  that  all  contracts  held  by  mem- 
bers for  any  future  time,  later  than  two  weeks 
hence,  shall  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  booking 
secretary,  and  cancelled.  They  are  going  to  find  out 
who  is  who.  This  also  is  not  complied  with.  They 
would  pass   these  propositions   unanimously,   and 


132  93V  JLaDp 

when  it  came  to  executing  them — well,  that  was 
different.  Talk,  and  shouting  and  cheering,  are 
one  thing;  but  doing — well,  that  is  something  else. 
Those  were  sore  hours  for  the  Dromio.  His  house 
of  dreams  had  begun  to  dissolve.  Well,  what  would 
you  have  them  do,  thou  foolish  man  ?  Throw  away 
twenty  weeks  of  bread  and  butter  and  applause  for 
some  vague  dream  of  the  future?  Yea,  verily.  We 
believe  thou  wouldst.  Meanwhile,  the  turmoil  in- 
creases, not  so  much  at  the  meetings  as  on  the  out- 
side. There  are  undercurrent  murmurings,  whis- 
perings, criticisms,  discontent,  denunciations,  all 
because  some  Brothers  are  working  and  others  are 
not,  and  those  who  are  working,  as  well  as  those 
who  have  engagements  for  the  future,  are  supposed 
to  be  breaking  rules  that  others  have  kept,  obviously, 
to  the  great  disadvantage  of  the  latter.  Letters 
pour  in  advising  drastic  measures.  Why  not  ask  all 
suspected  ones  to  resign?  Or  expel  them?  Why 
not,  indeed?  Because  that  living  Ghoul  of  many 
tongues,  whose  name  is  Rumor,  says  that  many 
other  prominent  members  are  booked  under  the 
same  conditions,  and  are  only  waiting  for  their  en- 
gagements to  begin,  when  they  will  resign  from  the 
Order.  Not  one  word  of  this  was  true.  A  nice 
little  song  could  be  written  here,  with  a  very  long 
title,  called.  It  Was  All  Done  by  a  Few  from  the 
Other  Side  Who  Worked  Up  the  Whole  Thing,  even 
as  lago  played  upon  the  jealous  mind  of  the  noble 


l^auDetJille  133 

Othello.  However,  it  is  as  potent  as  it  is  untrue, 
and  something  must  be  done.  Something  Must  Be 
Done  to  find  out  who  is  who.  Scores  are  threatening 
to  resign,  unless  this  something  is  done.  The  Dro- 
mio  is  told  so  over  and  over  again.  There  is  a 
meeting  of  the  combined  Board  of  Directors  and 
Electors.  At  this  meeting  certain  members  try  to 
turn  the  whole  brunt  of  the  coming  storm  on  a  cer- 
tain manager  named  Poli,  who  did  not  belong  to  the 
Syndicate.  This  was  significant  to  the  Dromio. 
Poor  old  Poli!  What  had  he  done?  He  ran  a 
couple  of  insignificant  theatres  in  New  England  that 
were  sort  of  fill-ins :  places  for  odd  weeks  for  such 
performers  as  cared  to  occasionally  play  for  less 
than  their  regular  salaries.  Poor  old  Poli!  He 
had  been  overlooked  entirely  until  this  worked-up- 
to-moment,  when  something  must  be  done  to  pre- 
vent the  disruption  of  the  Order.  He  could  not  get 
into  the  Association  at  that  time,  and  though  he 
booked  through  his  agent,  William  Morris,  rather 
than  through  the  offices  of  the  Fraternity,  still  he 
was  nobody's  enemy.  However,  he  looms  up  now, 
when  it  looks  like  something  is  going  to  be  done. 
The  Dromio  listens,  but  says  nothing.  That  night 
emissaries  are  dispatched  to  four  theatres,  to  be 
there  on  the  afternoon  of  the  coming  morrow,  but 
they  do  not  go  to  Poll's.  They  go  to  Keith's  four 
houses,  which  are  in  cultured  Boston,  sleepy  Phil- 


134  ®P  JlaDp 

adelphia,  benignant  Providence,  and  noisy  New 
York. 

The  next  day,  near  noontime,  as  Mr.  E.  F.  Albee, 
General  Manager  of  B.  F.  Keith's  Amusement  En- 
terprises, approached  that  particular  temple  of  art 
known  as  Keith's  Union  Square  Theatre,  he  saw 
several  well-known  faces,  the  owners  of  which 
seemed  to  be  in  conference  with  each  other  and  act- 
ing rather  strangely.  It  is  supposable  that  one  of 
this  group  approached  and  confided  unto  him  the 
ominous  news  that  there  was  likely  to  be  no  per- 
formance at  the  Union  Square  that  day,  unless  he, 
Mr.  Albee,  could,  in  some  way,  secure  the  services 
of  new  performers,  as  all  those  entertainers  at  pres- 
ent engaged  at  that  particular  place  of  amusement 
had  suddenly  been  taken  ill. 

Also,  that  he,  Mr.  Albee,  could  acquire  informa- 
tion as  regards  any  further  particulars  by  applying 
in  person  at  the  Fraternal  Meeting  Place  of  the 
White  Rats,  which  same  was  on  23d  Street,  where 
the  members  of  the  aforesaid  body  were  now  as- 
sembled, and  where  they  would  be  in  session  all  day. 

As  to  the  precise  way  in  which  this  little  piece 
of  news  may  have  been  conveyed  to  Mr.  Albee,  or 
how  it  affected  him,  history  doth  not  record.  But 
business  is  business;  and  if  the  Mountain  will  not 
come  to  Mahomet,  Mahomet  must  go  to  the  Moun- 
tain. At  all  events,  it  is  certain  that  in  a  very  short 
time  after  the  reception  of  this  information,  Mr. 


l^autietJille  135 

Albee  was  climbing  those  stairs  which  led  to  the 
Fraternal  Hall  of  the  Society. 

It  is  reported  to  the  members  that  he  is  outside. 
To  preclude  any  possibility  of  embarrassment,  the 
members  retire — all  except  a  committee  of  three: 
Chief  Dromio  and  two  other  members.  Mr.  Albee 
is  admitted.  He  wants  to  know  what  they  want  of 
him?  It  is  explained  that  they  want  nothing  of  him. 
On  the  contrary,  is  there  anything  they  can  do  for 
him?  "It  is  reported,"  says  he,  "that  your  members 
are  going  on  a  strike  this  afternoon  at  the  Union 
Square  Theatre." 

"Not  so,  Mr.  Albee,"  says  Chief  Dromio.  "Our 
members  are  worried  so  greatly  over  certain  exist- 
ing conditions  that  they  are  liable  to  fall  ill,  even 
this  afternoon,  and  in  other  cities  besides  New  York, 
as,  for  instance,  Boston,  Providence,  and  Philadel- 
phia. But  as  these  conditions  which  worry  them 
so  can  be  easily  adjusted  to  suit  them,  they  will 
most  likely  all  get  well  at  once,  upon  being  apprised 
of  said  alteration.  Nay,  they  will  become  glad  and 
happy,  and  there  will  be  exceeding  rejoicing  among 
the  faithful." 

"But  I  can  do  nothing."  says  Mr.  Albee,  "with- 
out the  consent  of  the  other  Managers  of  our  As- 
sociation." "Then  you  should  surely  get  that  con- 
sent at  once,"  he  is  told.  He  then  requests  that  a 
committee  of  the  Fraternity  wait  upon  the  Asso- 
ciated Managers  at  their  offices  in  the  St.  James 


136  ^p  £aDp 

Building  that  afternoon,  at  which  place  he  will  have 
all  the  Managers  assembled.  His  request  is  com- 
plied with.  And  so  that  same  afternoon  a  commit- 
tee, including  the  Dromio,  Harry  Watson,  Paul 
Armstrong,  James  F.  Dolan,  James  J.  Corbett 
and  Stephen  O'Brien  (an  Attorney),  are  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  the  Managers  by  that  smiling, 
suave  lieutenant,  Mr.  D.  F.  Hennessy.  The  Mana- 
gers are  all  present :  all  the  members  of  the  Eastern 
Branch.  Dromio  is  the  spokesman  for  his  party. 
And  if  proof  were  wanting  of  his  foolishness,  of  his 
lurid  absurdity,  of  his  ignorance  of  those  propor- 
tions existing  between  mighty  Managers  and  their 
Merry  Men,  it  is  here  to-day,  hanging  up  on  every 
word  that  he  utters.  He  tells  them  that  to  take  five 
per  cent,  from  the  salary  of  an  artist,  against  his 
wish,  is  wrong;  even  if  they  do  persuade  him  to  sign 
a  contract  stipulating  same.  He  tells  them  that  to 
use  this  five  per  cent.,  which  amounts  to  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  dollars  per  annum,  for  purposes  of 
monopoly,  is  not  fair.  He  says  that  to  eliminate 
competition,  and  reduce  the  salaries  of  those  who 
have  made  their  money  for  them,  is  not  just  to  the 
artist  or  fair  to  the  public,  or  other  men  of  theat- 
rical enterprise.  Poor,  foolish  imbecile!  He  dares 
even  to  suggest  that  a  Theatrical  Manager  is  not  a 
sacred  being!     He  says  to  them: 

"You  gentlemen  will  experience  much  difficulty 
in  the  future,  unless  you  stop  taking  these  commis- 


l^auDeuille  137 

sions  which  are  rightfully  ours,  and  agree  to  sign 
a  contract  which  is  equitable.  And  no  matter  what 
you  may  do,  all  your  efforts  to  put  our  Fraternity 
out  of  existence  will  be  in  vain.  It  was  conceived 
of  long  before  your  Association  was  dreamed  of.  It 
is  founded  on  truth.  It  will  live  and  grow  great, 
and  unless  you  alter  your  methods,  it  will  consume 
you !  You  are  fanning  the  flames  yourselves !  You 
started  the  trouble.  We  were  not  molesting  you. 
Why  have  our  members  become  so  restless  that  they 
insist  upon  finding  out  who  is  loyal,  even  by  radical 
methods?  Who  is  the  cause  of  this?  Your  Presi- 
dent says  he  does  not  want  the  commissions.  Then 
why  do  you  take  them?  Give  us  some  light  on  the 
subject.  All  we  seek  is  simple  justice  and  fair  play. 
Those  are  the  basic  principles  of  our  Brotherhood. 
You  know  what  YOU  are  together  for?  For 
money !  Nobody  blames  you  for  that,  but  you  want 
it  all !  You  aim  through  eliminating  competition  to 
make  it  impossible  for  any  person  to  open  a  theatre 
in  opposition  to  you  in  any  city  of  the  United  States ! 
What  kind  of  entertainment  will  you  give  the  public 
if  you  succeed?  And  what  salaries  will  you  pay 
the  artists?  You  have  already  offered  them  much 
reduced  salaries.  The  reason  they  have  not  ac- 
cepted them  is  because  of  our  Society.  We  have 
prevented  them.  We  have  built  for  ourselves  a  house 
that  cannot  fall.  Hope  stands  forever  on  its  thresh- 
old.    You  would  send  fear  to  visit  us.     Well,  let 


liim  come,  and  claim  whomsoever  he  may.  There 
will  still  be  others,  and  we  shall  see  "who  is  who" 
among  us!  We  do  not  want  those  whom  you  can 
frighten.  Come,  let  us  be  fair.  You  are  using  the 
commissions  on  our  salaries  to  run  your  Association. 
You  say  you  do  not  want  them.  We  say  we  do 
want  them.  They  belong  to  us.  We  are  here  to 
see  what  you  intend  to  do.'* 

Something  like  this  was  the  jumble-mumble  of 
incoherent  verbiage  poured  forth  on  the  hot  breath 
of  our  ridiculous  one.  He  was  interrupted  many 
times,  each  time  threatening  to  leave,  but  was  pre- 
vented by  members  of  his  own  committee,  who 
cautioned  patience  (which  same  by-play  had  all  been 
prearranged  by  them). 

Finally,  having  thus  delivered  himself  of  his 
tirade,  he  sits  down  and  listens.  They  try  to  bluff, 
persuade,  cajole  him. 

There  are  arguments  pro  and  con.  Mostly  con. 
One  of  the  many  handicaps  that  our  Fool  labored 
under  was  his  inability  to  see  the  ridiculous  futility 
of  appealing  with  such  sentiments  as  truth,  justice 
or  fair  play,  in  this  present  age  of  Iron  and  Gold. 
Neither  perhaps  could  he  see  the  incongruity  of  in- 
troducing same  into  his  frothy  world  of  Make  Be- 
lieve; or,  if  he  could,  he  was  powerless  to  alter  it. 
Men  must  go  the  way  they  are  made.  Even  fools. 
And  though  he  knew  that  similar  sentiments  ex- 


l^rtuDetJillc 


139 


pressed  anent  great  affairs  in  all  ages  had  "lighted 
other  fools  the  way  to  dusty  death,"  still,  must  he 
play  his  part  and  speak  his  piece,  though  it  availeth 
no  more  than  to  say  prayers  to  a  lion  in  a  jungle. 


I40  ^P  JLaDp 


XVII. 

AND  what  is  it  all  about?  Is  it  really  some 
small  theatrical  matter,  this  issue  over 
which  these  modern  Associated  Managers 
and  Merry  Men  are  wrangling?  It  is  about  five 
per  cent.,  and  this  Fool  does  know,  and  it  were 
well  if  wiser  ones  could  know  it,  too:  That  into 
the  coffers  of  whomsoever  this  five  per  cent,  shall 
eventually  go,  into  those  hands  will  also  go  eventu- 
ally all  the  theatres  of  the  world.  If  it  is  stopped 
altogether,  and  no  one  take  it,  then  the  actors 
must  pay  it  into  their  own  accounts,  and  invest 
it  collectively  in  their  own  theatres,  if  they  would 
protect  themselves  from  the  menace  of  greed,  or 
advance  in  any  way  unshackled  by  commercial 
gyves.  What  does  this  mean? — this  changing  of 
the  course  or  the  current  of  this  five  per  cent,  from 
those  who  cater  to  those  who  aspire?  In  the  hands 
of  the  artists,  it  not  only  means  protection  for  the 
producers  now,  but  freedom  for  the  creators  of 
public  diversion  for  all  future  time.    With  the  Man- 


l^auUetJille  141 

agers,  it  means  control,  power,  monopoly  of  cater- 
ing to  the  amusment-loving  world.  And  managers 
always  cater,  even  as  the  public  always  flies  to  mor- 
bidity. 

Control  by  artists  of  their  own  enterprises  means 
a  consciousness  of  a  freedom  to  give  that  which  is 
best  in  them  for  the  production  of  artistic  effect,  re- 
gardless of  all  other  considerations.  Theatricals 
have  become  necessary,  and  if  the  public  cannot  get 
salt  for  its  jaded  palate,  it  will  accept  art  for  its 
eyes,  and  even  though  the  eyes  understand  not,  they 
will  learn.  Hence,  the  benefit.  So  in  this  age  of  or- 
ganization, it  has  now  become  a  question  of  who 
shall  eventually  serve  the  public  diversion.  Caterers 
or  educators?  Granted,  that  the  Merry  Men  as  a 
body  must  first  educate  themselves.  To  do  this,  they 
must  first  be  free;  and  no  man  can  be  said  to  be 
free  while  another  man,  or  a  syndicate  of  men,  con- 
trols his  destiny. 

What  further  proof  is  wanting  that  stage  people  se- 
cure better  results,  and  arrive  at  higher  ideals,  when 
untrammelled — in  short,  that  they  prefer  to  educate 
and  amuse  at  the  same  time,  than  this  fact :  that  the 
best  productions  are  always  to  be  found  in  those 
theatres  where  the  actor  is  also  manager,  or  at 
least  owns  his  theatre? 

However,  here  is  the  Fool  and  his  committee  at 
the  Managers'  offices,  discussing  this  seemingly  un- 
important question  (all  important  to  the  Fool)  of 


142  ^p  jLadp 

who  shall  have  the  five  per  cent,  commission  on  the 
artists'  salaries:  The  Association  or  the  Frater- 
nity? It  will  be  remembered  that  these  same  com- 
missions have  heretofore  (prior  to  the  inception  of 
either  Association  or  Fraternity)  been  paid  to 
a  middle  man  (agent),  who  arranged  the  perform- 
er's engagements  for  him.  And  although  said  Mid- 
dle Man  always  worked  in  favor  of  the  Manager, 
when  not  in  collusion  with  him  (for,  in  truth, 
he  always  felt  beholden  to  him),  still  he  was  the 
actor's  only  business  representative,  or  was  supposed 
to  be  (at  least  he  was  an  intermediary,  who  de- 
scribed the  nature  of  the  performer's  talent).  He 
blew  the  performer's  trumpet  as  loudly  as  he  dared, 
without  incurring  the  enmity  of  the  mighty.  How- 
ever, now  he  has  been  eliminated,  and  both  the  As- 
sociation of  mighty  managers  and  that  great  Fra- 
ternity of  Merry  Men,  The  White  Rats,  want  that 
same  poor  pittance  that  this  now  cast-off  "go-be- 
tween" has  struggled,  lied,  hustled,  sweated,  exag- 
gerated, underrated,  schemed,  fought,  intrigued, 
bullied,  been  bullied,  praised  and  libeled  for 
during  all  these  years:  and  that  same  is 
Five  Per  Cent.  But  is  it  so  insignificant,  after 
all?  If  its  full  totality  were  known  it  amounts 
to  more  than  A  Million  Dollars  per  Year.  And 
we  have  seen  how  much  depends  on  which  di- 
rection it  may  take.  Where  shall  it  go?  Into  whose 
coffers  shall  it  flow?     Manager  or  Artist?     Much 


l^auDetJille  143 

depends  on  this  meeting.  And  as  has  been  said, 
there  is  much  noisy  argument  after  Dromio's  speech. 
Finally,  the  Managers  declare  that  they  are  power- 
less to  abolish  the  commisisons,  until  the  next  meet- 
ing of  the  two  Branches  of  their  Association,  West- 
ern and  Eastern,  which  is  to  be  on  the  sixth  day  of 
March.  It  is  now  the  middle  of  February.  They 
"must  consult  with  their  Western  members  first." 
They  promise  that  at  that  forthcoming  meeting  of 
the  branches  twain  to  have  said  commissions  done 
away  with  entirely,  and  the  clauses  omitted  from  all 
contracts.  They  also  promise  that  in  the  interim  they 
will  not  take  these  commisisons.  However,  they  will 
not  sign  an  agreement  to  this  effect,  though  they 
are  pleaded  with  to  do  so.  They  will  merely  give 
their  words.  As  a  last  resort,  their  words  are  taken, 
the  Fool  and  his  Committee  depart,  and  the  perform- 
ance at  Keith's  Union  Square  goes  on  as  usual.  So 
do  those  other  performances  at  Boston,  Providence, 
and  Philadelphia,  for  a  time,  and  the  audiences  at 
each  all  wax  merry  and  enthusiastic,  little  dreaming, 
or  having  much  need  to  care,  that  the  merry  Joeys, 
Jesters,  Jinglers  and  Joshers,  who  strut,  fret  and 
amble  before  them  with  song  and  story  on  a  stage 
within  a  stage,  have  at  least  a  semi-serious  side  to 
their  lives,  where  inward  and  outward  struggles  go 
on  forever.  Or  that  they  have  but  now  put  off  for 
a  few  days  a  crisis  the  outcome  of  which  would 


144  ^P  itatJP 

mark  the  beginning  of  an  advancement  destined  to 
determine  their  status  on  earth  for  all  future  time. 

Surely,  movements  of  great  possibilities  in  the 
future  are  sometimes  disguised  as  small  affairs  at 
the  time  of  their  enactment.  There  was  that  simple 
tax  on  the  tea  of  the  Colonials  (another  five  per 
cent.)  which  gave  to  the  earth  a  new  world  of  men 
and  women,  said  to  be  free  and  equal,  and  kingless, 
who  now  call  themselves  citizens,  to  differentiate 
from  the  word  "subject,"  and  who  yet  are  subject 
to  many  kings  under  the  names  of  Brokers,  Bankers, 
Politicians  and  Monopolists. 

However,  our  committee  returns,  and  reports  to 
the  Lodge.  The  communication  is  received  with 
favor.  Everybody  is  glad  that  a  crisis  has  been 
avoided,  even  for  a  time,  so  long  as  those  members 
playing  at  the  theatres  named  have  proven  loyal  by 
their  willingness  to  act  in  accordance  with  the  will 
of  the  general  body,  which  telephone  messages  and 
telegrams  prove  to  be  the  case. 

So  the  excitement  simmers  down  into  suspense. 
They  will  wait  and  see  if  the  Managers  will  keep 
their  word. 


I^aunetjflle  14s 


XVIII. 

IT  is  at  this  time  that  one  Ezra  Kendall  makes  his 
appearance  among  them  for  the  first  time.  In 
all  professions,  political  parties,  classes  or 
clans,  there  is  ever  a  man  whom  it  seems  natural 
for  some  other  men  to  follow.  Perhaps  because  in 
his  person,  his  words  and  ways,  he  seems  to  com- 
bine the  nearest  approximation  to  their  several 
ideals.  But  perhaps  for  some  reason,  unknown  to 
men,  will  their  eyes  and  hearts  almost  unconsciously 
turn  to  him  in  crucial  hours.  Such  a  man  among 
Vaudevillains  in  those  days  was  Ezra  Kendall. 
From  the  inception  of  the  Order,  members  had 
been  saking,  "Why  does  not  Kendall  join?"  And 
the  question  was  asked  oftener  as  the  rank  and  file 
became  more  numerous.  Beautiful  intuition  of 
those  who  have  no  words  to  speak,  but  only  hearts 
to  feel.  Intuition  to  be  depended  upon.  But 
mostly  did  the  Dromio  wish  him  to  be  in  the 
Fold.  He  wrote  him  letters  frequently,  endeavor- 
ing to  ascertain  his  reasons  for  remaining  outside 


146  app  JLaDp 

the  Fold.  And  always  the  answer  came  back: 
"I  will  be  there  when  most  needed."  He  kept  his 
word  to  the  minute.  When  the  first  dark  cloud 
of  the  approaching  inevitable  storm  appeared,  there 
was  Ezra  at  the  next  meeting  with  glad  hearts  all 
around  him  shaking  hands  and  jubilating.  There 
he  was  among  them,  smiling,  shaking  hands,  saying 
"Hush!"  to  compliments,  and  encouraging  every- 
body. Typically  American,  simple,  modest,  natural, 
in  some  respects  (let  us  say  the  word)  great.  Yea, 
great,  even  though  a  Jester.  And  hath  not  our  own 
Nugent  said  that  "Laughter  is  worship,  as  sincere 
as  prayer?"  Well,  yes,  maybe,  perhaps,  sometimes, 
if  it  be  of  the  right  kind,  and  born  of  convictions  be- 
gotten in  that  proper  crucible — the  heart. 

But  here  he  is  with  them  now,  this  Kendall  joker 
— witty,  apt,  sensible,  fearless,  indefatigable.  (Im- 
agine such  a  man  in  the  Merry  World!)  His  work 
has  not  begun  as  yet.  Thus  far  he  has  merely  writ- 
ten a  few  letters  to  the  Fraternity,  which  have  met 
with  great  acclaim.  But  this  much  they  know — he 
can  be  depended  upon  to  keep  his  word.  Yes,  and 
to  think  some  thoughts,  and  express  them.  Well,  he 
will  be  much  needed  during  the  coming  days,  to  oc- 
casionally resuscitate  short-winded  wabblers  who 
have  spent  their  breath  in  shouting,  and  have  no 
energy  left  for  action.  And  for  other,  and  still  more 
potent,  reasons  he  will  be  much  needed. 

Prior  to  his  joining  the  Order  the  Dromio  had 


l^auDetJille  147 

often  wondered  why  so  many  members,  enthusisatic 
for  the  Cause,  had  nevertheless  so  much  faith  in 
him,  their  friend  on  the  outside?  But  when  Ezra 
joined,  the  Dromio  understood.  Referring  to  the 
managers  extracting  five  per  cent,  of  the  artists'  sal- 
aries for  booking  them  at  their  own  theatres,  and 
thus  paying  themselves  for  acting  as  agents  for 
themselves,  Kendall  said:  "Why  should  an  em- 
ployer employ  his  employee  to  employ  his  em- 
ployer ?" 

When,  in  after  days,  they  told  him  that  there 
would  have  been  no  strike  if  he  had  joined  earlier, 
he  said :  "There  would  have  been  a  more  extensive 
one.  It  would  have  reached  from  Boston  to  Los 
Angeles." 

As  was  to  be  expected,  the  managers  did  not  keep 
their  word.  The  Dromio  felt  that  they  would  not, 
but  he  wanted  to  give  them  every  chance  possible. 
During  the  following  week,  members  whose  services 
were  in  demand  by  the  Association  were  sent  for  to 
accept  engagements.  They  were  offered  contracts 
with  the  same  old  commisison  clauses  in  them.  These 
applicants  said,  "We  thought  that  there  was  an 
agreement  to  omit  commission  clauses  until  the 
meeting  of  your  Eastern  and  Western  Branches  on 
March  6th?"  They  were  told  that  was  a  joke.  The 
report  of  this  once  more  set  the  Society  on  fire,  and 
once  more  something  must  be  done.  Like  a  giant 
cauldron  of  simmering  clay,  or  coalesced  clayey  en- 


148 


®p  La  Dp 


tities,  that  have  been  fitfully  spluttering  and  sim- 
mering over  a  huge  fire,  so  the  Society  has  been  for 
a  few  days,  while  waiting  for  this  expected  news, 
which  is  all  that  is  wanted  to  set  it  boiling.  Again 
speeches  are  made,  and  all  sorts  of  plans  projected. 
During  Liberty  Hall  there  is  hurrying  and  scurrying 
and  whispering  groups,  many  differences  of  opinion, 
much  argument,  and  more  gesticulation,  yet  when 
the  meeting  is  called  to  order,  all  is  orderly  and  in 
good  form. 


l^auDetJille  149 


XIX. 

AMONG  them  at  this  time  was  an  unknown 
quantity.  It  was  in  the  person  of  a  certain 
Brother  and  friend  of  man,  named  J.  C. 
Nugent.  Jack  Nugent,  "Our  Jack,"  they  affection- 
ately called  him  for  many  days  after  his  advent.  A 
great  surprise  was  this  same  Nugent  on  that  day 
when  he  unleashed  himself  for  the  first  time  and 
turned  on  his  verbal  fireworks.  A  young  Lochinvar 
come  out  of  the  West.  In  a  revolutionary  age,  he 
would  have  been  a  Patrick  Henry,  or  a  very  Danton, 
Let  Robespierre  look  to  his  laurels,  for  here  is  a  man 
who  will  even  disdain  the  smile  of  the  goose  goddess 
fame,  in  order  to  speak  truth  and  warn  all  possible 
traitors  who  might  unhappily  fail  them  in  the  com- 
ing hour  of  trial.  Unknown  in  the  profession,  and 
to  most  of  the  members  assembled  there,  unknown, 
he  told  them  what  would  happen  (and  what  after- 
wards did  happen),  and  what  they  must  be  prepared 
to  do,  and  yet,  what  they  never  did  do.  An  apple- 
faced  boy,  with  dark  hair  and  sleepy  eyes,  capable, 


ISO  ^P  JLaDp 

nevertheless,  of  flashing  forth  dark  warnings  to  all 
weaklings,  he  arose  that  Sunday  afternoon,  in  an- 
swer to  some  remarks  made  by  the  President,  and 
when  he  sat  down  everybody  knew  he  was  among 
them. 

When  the  pandemonium  of  approbation  following 
his  speech  had  subsided,  they  began  to  ask  each 
other  questions.  "Who  is  he  ?"  "Oh !  some  young 
guy  from  the  West."  "Well,  he  certainly  can  spiel 
some,  can't  he ?"  "What's  his  name?"  "Nugent." 
"What  does  he  do?"  "A  sketch  with  his  wife." 
"When  did  he  join?"  "Oh,  I  don't  know.  Just 
lately,  I  guess."  "Well,  he  ought  to  be  in  Wash- 
ington, talking  to  those  crooked  Senators.  He  cer- 
tainly had  me  going  for  fair." 

And  so  it  came  about  that  the  next  day  all  Vaude- 
ville New  York  was  acclaiming  this  same  motley- 
masked  descendant  of  the  great  Irish  general  as  the 
Vaudeville  Bryan.  It  would  be  well  could  that 
speech  be  remembered.  It  was  sprung  at  the  psycho- 
logical moment,  and  was  the  first  red  fire  that  had 
ever  been  touched  off  in  the  Order.  It  has  blown 
away  now,  with  the  winds  of  yesterday,  but  there 
was  a  truly  laughable  circumstance  in  connection 
with  it  which  will  bear  repeating.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  whenever  our  friend  Cookie  took  the  floor 
and  attempted  to  speak  he  was  never  able  to  string 
many  sentences  together  before  he  would  be  laughed 
down  and  out.    And  though  Cookie  did  not  relish 


l^auDetiille  151 

this,  he  had  to  endure  it,  for,  as  he  himself  said, 
"What  can  one  guy  do  against  six  hundred  ?"  How- 
ever, he  was  there  on  the  day  of  the  Nugent  ora- 
tion, and  had  tried  several  times  to  get  his  word  in, 
always  being  promptly  called  to  order  by  the  Chair. 
When  Nugent  began  to  speak  this  day.  Cookie  was 
one  of  his  most  attentive  listeners,  and  everybody 
was  attentive.  The  speaker  was  listened  to  in  abso- 
lute silence.  His  words  came  slow  at  first,  and 
calm;  his  voice  was  resonant,  yet  sleepy,  until  he 
warmed  to  his  subject  and  poured  forth  the  lava. 
Oh!  ye  laughing  gods  who  preside  over  the  des- 
tinies of  earth's  merry  men,  here  is  a  wonder  come 
to  town !  A  man  in  a  talky  profession  who  can  real- 
ly talk,  and  who  has  something  to  say !  The  orator 
worked  up  to  his  peroration  gradually.  He  told 
them  what  frail  creatures  men  sometimes  were,  mor- 
ally, in  hours  of  moral  trial.  The  Big  Chief  had 
said  that  we  have  only  each  other's  words  to  depend 
on  in  the  coming  crisis.  How  many  of  them  were 
going  to  be  as  good  as  their  words?  Did  they  all 
deeply  understand  that  a  man's  word  of  honor  is 
more  binding  tO  a  real  man  than  any  oath  or  obli- 
gation? Until  now,  no  man's  word  had  been  ques- 
tioned. We  accepted  each  other  on  simple  faith. 
"Well,  Brothers,"  said  he,  "that  is  all  right,  and  was 
all  right  while  we  were  sailing  on  calm  seas,  but  a 
storm  is  approaching.  We  must  be  true  to  each 
other  during  this  storm,  ano^  no  word  has  ever  been 


152  0^p  JLadp 

spoken  here  to  provide  for  what  we  shall  do  to  him 
or  those  who  may  fail  us  in  the  darkling  hours.  I 
come  to  speak  that  word.  I  have  come  to  warn  the 
traitor!"  Here  the  orator's  voice  began  to  thunder 
forth  his  rhetoric.  His  eyes  flashed  fire,  his  body 
swayed,  he  waved  his  arms,  emotion  seemed  to  be 
in  every  fibre  of  him! 

"I  have  come  to  warn  the  possible  traitors !  Your 
profession  is  more  dear  to  most  of  you  that  your 
lives!  Such  is  your  obsession!  Every  laugh  is  a 
heart  throb — every  word  of  applause  is  a  thrill  to 
most  of  you!  Such  is  your  obsession!  You  say 
this  profession  so  dear  to  you  is  menaced  by  monop- 
oly, and  that  the  only  way  to  win  is  to  own  it  your- 
selves! You  are  going  to  buy  it  with  the  five  per 
cent,  commissions  on  your  salaries !  You  are  going 
to  fight  it  out  on  these  lines!  Such  is  the  issue! 
Well,  if  there  is  no  other  way,  if  we  must  fight,  let's 
fight!  But  remember  this:  we  are  fighting  money! 
That  is  the  weapon  of  the  opposition!  Our  only 
weapon  is  pure  loyalty  to  each  other,  and  therefore 
I  wish  to  provide  for  the  slave  who  may  fail  to  be 
loyal  in  this  coming  hour  of  trial !" 

Now  the  words  came  swifter,  terrific!  The 
hands  waved  more  frantically! 

*'I  wish  to  provide  for  him  who  shall  fail  us,  and 
so  I  propose,  here,  now,  standing  on  my  own  two 
feet,  before  you  several  hundred  renowned  and  cele- 
brated gentlemen,  I  propose  (and  I  want  my  propo- 


l^auDetJille  153 

sition  carried  unanimously),  that  the  first  member 
of  this  Order  who  fails  us  during  this  coming  storm, 
shall  be  ostracized  from  our  profession!  That  no 
man  who  is  now  a  White  Rat  will  ever  again  shake 
his  hand  in  the  spirit  of  Brotherly  Love!  That  no 
White  Rat  shall  ever  play  on  the  same  programme 
again  with  him!  That  he  shall  be  stamped  by  all 
who  know  him  as  a  Black  Rat^  and  go  down  into 
desuetude  and  oblivion  as  a  traitor  to  his  fellows, 
unloved,  unhonored  and  unsung !" 

In  some  such  way  as  this  did  he  finish  his  perora- 
tion, and  the  effect  on  the  members  was  tremendous. 
They  cheered  and  applauded  for  several  minutes. 
The  band  played.  They  sang  the  emblem,  and  then 
they  cheered  some  more.  It  took  several  minutes  to 
quiet  them.  The  President  pounded  for  order  till 
he  splintered  his  gavel ;  then  he  thumped  a  big  brass 
gong  with  a  bass  drumstick.  And,  when  order  had 
finally  been  restored,  and  there  was  perfect  silence 
in  the  Hall,  it  was  then  that  the  incorrigible  Cookie 
arose  and  said,  "That's  what  I've  been  trying  to  tell 
you  guys  for  the  last  six  months."  The  scream  of 
laughter  that  followed  this  remark  almost  equalled 
the  cheering  just  ended.  However,  the  Nugent  prop- 
osition was  carried  unanimously,  as  he  wished  it 
to  be,  and  the  Vaudeville  Bryan  had  made  his  debut 
in  the  Fraternity  of  Follyland. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  the  punishment  sug- 
gested for  wrongdoers  in  his  oration,  this  same  Nu- 


154  0ip  JLaDp 

gent  (as  was  afterwards  proven)  would  be  one  of 
the  first  to  deal  leniently  with  erring  ones,  and 
prompt  to  show  mercy  to  the  frail.  But  he  wanted 
to  drill  into  their  hearts  the  importance  of  their 
pledges,  and  convince  everybody  that,  as  to  that 
phase  of  their  affairs,  there  was  to  be  no  fooling. 
From  that  day  Nugent  became  an  important  factor 
during  the  crisis,  and  a  hard  worker  all  through  the 
reconstructioiL 


IPautieUinc  155 


XX. 

THE  meetings  grew  warmer,  and  still  more 
warm.  There  were  Star  Cabinet  sessions, 
meetings  of  the  Board  of  Directors  and 
Electors,  and  daily  meetings  of  the  whole  Order.  On 
the  2 1st  of  February  the  Dromio  was  in  consultation 
most  of  the  day  with  his  lawyers.  That  evening  a 
score  of  members  were  on  their  different  ways  to  all 
the  principal  cities  east  of  Chicago.  And  on  the  fol- 
lowing day — Lincoln's  Birthday  (Oh!  most  appro- 
priate hour  to  strike  for  freedom!),  Febraury  22, 
1 901,  there  were  no  White  Rats  appearing  on  any  of 
the  programmes  given  in  any  of  the  principal  Vaude- 
ville Theatres  in  the  East  or  Middle  West.  Those 
theatres  that  did  not  close  their  doors  ran  with  Bio- 
graphs  working  over  time,  and  such  non-rat  (non- 
star)  and  amateur  talent  as  could  be  secured.  David 
Montgomery  arrived  in  Boston  that  morning,  and 
before  eleven  o'clock  he  had  all  the  Vaudeville  per- 
formers in  the  cultured  city  corralled  in  one  large 
suite  of  rooms,  giving  them  instructions.     George 


156  ^p  £atip 

Monroe  was  acting  likewise  in  Philadelphia,  Jack 
Nugent  in  Buffalo,  and  other  members  in  all  the 
cities  concerned.  And  now  Paul  Armstrong's  work 
began  to  tell.  The  Associated  Press  of  America  had 
leading  articles  in  all  the  principal  papers  daily, 
stating  the  cause  of  the  crisis,  and  placing  the  issue 
fairly  before  the  public.  The  Dromio  was  inter- 
viewed night  and  day  by  press  representatives.  The 
managers  published  what  they  thought  to  be  their 
side,  and  also  the  amount  of  salaries  paid  to  leading 
stars,  hoping  to  convince  the  public  that  they  were 
overpaid.  They  had  no  argument,  because  it  was 
apparent  to  everyone  that  ninety-five  cents  was  not 
one  dollar.  So  they  continued  to  threaten  and  fume, 
and  the  Biograph  continued  to  work  overtime.  That 
they  were  surprised  at  the  loyalty  of  the  Fraternity 
states  it  but  mildly.  They  were  astounded.  Their 
most  frequent  remark  had  been,  "They  cannot  stick 
together."  They  said:  "They  have  never  been 
known  to  be  true  to  each  other!"  And  though  this 
opinion  was  based  on  statistics — Well,  this  time  it 
was  different.  Very  few  slipped  or  fell.  In  the  So- 
ciety the  enthusiasm  and  excitement  were  so  great 
that  whole  companies,  engaged  at  other  houses  out- 
side of  the  Syndicate,  and  not  concerned  in  the 
fight,  walked  out,  leaving  the  theatres  dark,  and  came 
to  the  Lodge  rooms,  mostly  in  their  make-ups.  How- 
ever, they  were  marched  right  back  again.  Now, 
the  meetings  of  the  Fraternity  have  become  contin- 


l^auDetJflle  157 

uous.  Also  there  is  continuous  shouting  and  cheer- 
ing, as  the  companies  return  from  the  different  cities, 
where  they  have  left  their  engagements.  When  there 
is  not  speech-making,  the  band  is  playing  and  mem- 
bers are  throwing  their  hats  in  the  air,  waving  flags 
and  coats.  It  is  the  volcano  burst  open  after  so  much 
smoldering.  And  everybody  is  true,  all  except  a 
very  few.  In  sane  moments  that  occasionally  inter- 
vene, business  is  attended  to.  Theatres  are  secured 
in  different  cities,  companies  are  formed  and  sent 
on  the  road,  benefits  are  given  to  packed  houses 
that  go  wild  with  enthusisasm.  The  Dromio  is 
everywhere  making  speeches  and  haranguing  mobs. 
Thousands  of  letters  and  telegrams  pour  in  from  all 
over  the  country  and  Europe,  praising  the  good 
work.  Committees  are  formed  to  alleviate  distress 
— relief  committees,  financial  committees,  amuse- 
ment committees,  all  sorts  of  committees.  The 
papers  continue  to  publish  articles  and  print  photo- 
graphs of  the  leading  members  and  committees. 
Public  sentiment  is  all  with  the  Merry  Makers.  The 
people  know  that  they  are  fighting  for  freedom — 
for  a  just  principle — for  a  right  to  have  a  voice  in 
their  own  affairs.  This  they  know,  but  they  don't 
know  all.  They  don't  know  how  much  it  means  in 
the  way  of  better  entertainment.  They  don't  know 
what  it  will  mean  to  all  future  generations  of  stage 
people,  and  neither  do  they  know  that  every  battle 


158  ®P  JLaDp 

fought  and  won  by  any  class  against  the  power  of 
gold  is  a  victory  for  all  the  people  at  the  same  time. 

And  so  the  exciting  days  fly  by.  The  Western 
Managers,  seeing  the  trend  of  affairs,  become 
alarmed.  They  have  members  who  are  playing  for 
them  send  wires  stating  their  friendliness  to  the 
Order,  and  inferences  that  they  never  did  believe  in 
commissions  anyway.  A  committee  is  sent  to  Chi- 
cago to  secure  an  agreement  with  the  Western 
Branch,  to  the  effect  that  they  will  book  all  future 
engagements  through  the  White  Rat  offices.  This 
committee  of  one  returns  with  the  agreement.  He 
is  wrapped  in  the  American  Flag,  and  carried  the 
length  of  the  Hall,  while  the  band  plays  and  the 
members  cheer. 

Daily  the  excitement  increases.  Restrictions  as  to 
equality  of  membership  are  done  away  with.  The 
bars  are  let  down,  so  to  speak,  and  everybody  be- 
comes eligible,  for  the  reason  that  if  they  were  not 
in  the  Society,  they  were  its  natural  enemies,  and 
would  be  used  by  the  managers  in  trying  to  keep 
the  theatres  open.  And  so  the  hoi-polloi  comes 
stampeding  into  the  fold.  They  are  initiated  in 
scores  and  fifties  every  day.  Some  of  them  have 
not  had  engagements  for  months,  and  some  not  for 
years.  Persistent  to  remain  in  a  sphere  that  their 
merits  bear  no  warrant  of,  most  of  them  are  in  want, 
and  providing  for  their  many  needs  soon  proves  a 
serious  drain  on  the  relief  fund.     In  the  regular 


l^auDetJille  159 

membership  there  were  those  who  had  given  their 
all,  and  who  went  about  in  want,  yet  asked  for 
nothing;  and  others,  with  less  ability,  and  much  less 
reputation,  with  jewels  plastered  all  over  them,  who 
tried  to  squeeze  money  from  the  Relief  Committee. 
Surely  they  are  a  heterogeneous  tribe. 

For  purposes  of  facility,  the  Relief  Committee 
paid  certain  bills  for  those  who  ran  in  debt  for 
daily  wants,  and  all  sorts  of  bills  came  in:  Bills 
from  the  baker,  the  grocer  and  shoemaker;  $150 
butcher  bills,  and  yet  the  crisis  lasted  only  two 
weeks.  Some  people  must  have  large  families.  One 
member  even  borrowed  $500  to  pay  alimony — and 
never  paid  it  back.  Still  the  band  plays,  and  the 
cheering  goes  on.  Finally,  that  much  talked  of  and 
looked  for  day,  Alarch  the  Sixth,  dawns,  and  the 
Western  Managers  do  not  come  to  confer  with  their 
Eastern  Brethren,  for  obvious  reasons.  It  is  re- 
ported that  Mr.  B.  F.  Keith  will  confer  with  the 
Dromio  at  his  (Mr.  Keith's)  hotel,  the  Holland 
House.  Dromio  and  a  committee  of  two  wait  on 
him  that  evening.  Mr.  Keith  is  quiet,  good  natured, 
but  reserved.  He  says  he  never  was  in  favor  of 
commissions.  He  has  done  all  in  his  power  to  have 
them  abolished,  and  as  the  Western  Managers  did 
not  come  East  to  confer,  he  and  hisconfreres  will  tell 
the  representatives  of  the  press  as  much  on  the  mor- 
row. They  will  tell  them  that  the  Eastern  Branch 
will   abolish   commissions.     To   the   Dromio   this 


t6o 


Q^p  JLaDp 


spells  victory.  If  the  members  of  the  Managers' 
Association  will  tell  the  New  York  press  that  com- 
missions have  been  abolished,  this  is  as  good  as  an 
agreement,  because  they  could  break  any  agreement 
with  as  much  impunity  as  they  could  break  their 
word.  Whether  they  keep  their  word  or  not  is  a 
matter  for  individual  performers  to  attend  to  in 
signing  with  them.  The  Committee  returns  with 
this  good  news  to  the  Star  Cabinet,  which  is  in  ses- 
sion and  waiting,  and  there  is  much  rejoicing.  Mr. 
Keith  kept  his  word,  and  the  next  day  the  New 
York  press  was  teeming  with  accounts  of  the  White 
Rats'  Victory,  distinctly  stating  that  the  managers 
had  promised  to  abolish  the  commissions.  The 
Evening  Journal  had  one  page,  with  just  three  words 
on  it:    *WHITB  RATS  WIN." 


l^auUetJille  i6i 


SubtUatwn,  Struggle  anb  Strife. 

XXI. 

Now  the  jubilation  knows  no  bounds.     The 
victory  is  celebrated  with  wine  and  song 
all  over  the  United  States.     At  a  packed 
meeting  on  the  following  day  the  Dromio,  whose 
physical  strength  was  fast  leaving  him,  summed  up 
the  situation  in  the  following  words : 

"We  have  won  the  battle.  Victory  is  ours!  But 
whether  it  is  virtual,  or  merely  nominal,  remains 
with  yourselves,  as  individuals.  So  you  understand  ? 
It  remains  with  yourselves  to  keep  what  you  have 
won,  as  individuals.  The  Society  has  won  your 
battle  for  you.  The  Society  will  do  all  within  its 
power  to  help  you  keep  what  it  has  won  for  you; 
but  it  can  do  nothing  if  you  secretly  give  hack  as 
individuals  that  which  you  have  sf rived  so  hard  to 
win  collectively.  You  understand  how  it  is ;  we  have 
won  these  commisisons,  and  that  means  that  you 
are  privileged  to  insist  upon  a  neutral  contract  with 
each  manager  as  an  individual,  and  not  book  through 
the  offices  of  his  association.     You  have  won  as  a 


i62  Q^p  LaUp 

society,  but  you  have  not  won  as  individuals,  if 
you  place  your  brothers  at  a  disadvantage  by  se- 
cretly giving  back  that  which  they  have  helped  you 
to  win.  Now,  it  is  all  up  to  you.  A  Society  cannot 
put  a  new  heart  in  a  man,  though  it  may  give  protec- 
tion to  the  faint-hearted.  In  a  few  weeks  there  will 
be  no  association  of  managers,  if  you  insist  as  in- 
dividuals on  keeping  what  you  have  won  collectively. 
You  all  know,  or  should  know,  that  you  have  joined 
your  hearts  together  for  far  greater  things  than  this 
live  per  cent.  It  is  all  stated  in  your  Ritual,  when 
you  are  given  the  light  of  Starland.  You  have  come 
together  to  better  your  lives  and  all  your  conditions. 
Therefore,  you  must  perpetuate  your  Fraternity. 
This  five  per  cent,  is  merely  an  issue  that  you  have 
won.  .  It  will  mean  much,  if  you  use  it  collectively 
to  purchase  interests  in  those  enterprises  which  are 
rightfully  yours,  and  nothing  if  you  keep  it  as  in- 
dividuals, or  give  it  back  in  secret.  You  have  been 
good,  strong  and  true ;  you  have  won  the  first  battle 
in  theatrical  history;  now,  let  us  try  and  keep  what 
we  have  struggled  so  hard  for,  and  some  day  we 
will  own  our  own  world,  and  be  respected  and  held 
in  esteem  by  all  our  fellows  of  earth." 

There  was  much  cheering,  and  more  adulation  for 
the  Fool.  They  offer  him  a  salary  of  $10,000  a 
year.  He  refuses  to  accept  any  remuneration.  And 
now  a  new  struggle  begins.  It  is  that  of  trying  to 
keep  the  Society  intact,  and  hold  what  it  has  won. 


l^auHeVJille  163 

The  booking  department  moves  into  new,  large,  lux- 
urious offices  on  Broadway,  with  a  dozen  desks  and 
as  many  booking  agents.  Each  has  his  special  de- 
partment. There  are  agents  who  book  sketches,  and 
agents  who  book  single  turns,  concert  agents,  agents 
for  the  women,  and  committees  in  control  of  the 
companies  playing  out  of  town  at  the  leased  theatres. 
These  companies  were  formed  to  keep  such  members 
working  as  were  not  immediately  in  demand  by  the 
Association,  and  in  order  to  make  financial  ends 
meet,  they  were  supposed  to  accept  half  salaries  in 
cash  and  half  in  notes  on  the  Society.  Some  pro- 
claimed their  salaries  honestly,  and  some  doubled 
them,  so  that  the  half -cash  they  received  amounted 
to  the  full  regulation  salary,  and  the  notes  were  sur- 
plus. However,  most  all  of  them  donated  their 
notes  to  the  Society  afterwards,  when  it  became  in 
financial  straits. 

In  a  few  weeks,  the  echoing  rumblings  of  the  war 
have  ceased,  and  things  have  quieted  down  on  the 
outside;  but  on  the  inside  of  the  Society  there  are 
certain  murmurings.  Pickets  and  ferrets  are  kept 
on  the  lookout  at  certain  offices  for  possible  funkers, 
who  may  not  be  disposed  to  show  their  contracts 
when  signed.  But,  ah!  there  are  phones,  long  dis- 
tance and  otherwise,  over  which  secret  agreements 
may  be  made,  that  no  ferret  may  keep  tab  on.  But 
if  there  are  murmurings  among  the  merry  men, 
things  are  worse  among  the  managers.    They  are  at 


i64  ^p  JLaD^ 

loggerheads.  Mr.  B.  F.  Proctor  leaves  them.  So 
does  Percy  Williams.  Tony  Pastor  left  early  in 
the  game.  Mike  Shea  is  going  to  leave,  and  eventu- 
ally does  leave.  Hyde  and  Behman  are  on  the 
fence.  Independent  Vaudeville  is  being  given  in 
New  York,  Boston,  Buffalo,  Philadelphia,  Detroit, 
Cleveland  and  Toledo,  also  on  the  Poli  circuit.  Poor 
old  Poli!  The  Western  Branch  is  angry  at  the 
Eastern  Branch,  and  is  writing  sweet,  honeyed  noth- 
ings to  the  Dromio,  offering  him  engagements,  etc., 
and  altogether  there  is  great  tribulation  and  unrest 
in  the  managerial  camp.  But  the  long  strain  is  be- 
ginning to  tell  on  the  Fool.  It  is  noticed  that  he  is 
far  from  well,  so  they  send  him  West,  to  recuperate 
his  strength.  Jim  the  Gipsy  goes  with  him.  Robert 
Dailey  accompanies  them  as  far  as  Chicago.  A 
meeting  is  called  in  that  Western  city.  Eligible  can- 
didates are  made  members,  and  booking  offices  are 
established  there  also.  Two  members  are  left  in 
charge  of  the  Chicago  offices,  with  Robert  Gaylor 
as  advisory.  The  Dromio  rests  for  two  weeks  at 
a  health  resort.  When  he  returns  to  New  York,  a 
testimonial  for  him  is  under  way.  It  was  one  of  the 
biggest  benefits  ever  given  in  New  York.  It  was 
held  at  Koster  &  Bial's  Music  Hall,  34th  Street.  All 
the  stars  in  New  York  took  part  in  the  performance, 
at  the  conclusion  of  which  they  presented  the  Fool 
with  a  TvOving  Cup  containing  several  thousand  dol- 
lars in  gold.     Nearly  a  hundred  stars  were  crowded 


I^auneuille  165 

on  the  stage.     Tony  Pastor  introduced  De  Wolf 
Hopper,  who  made  the  speech  of  presentation. 

And  now  the  weeks  go  by,  and  though  every  ef- 
fort is  made  by  the  loyal  members  for  the  prevention 
of  any  internal  strife,  still  it  is  felt  by  these 
same  loyal  ones  that  all  is  not  so  well  in  the  Fra- 
ternity. The  battle  is  over,  and  there  are  many  who 
pretend  to  think  that  that  was  all  the  Society  was  or- 
ganized for.  Occasionally  a  resignation  comes  in, 
and  soon  after  the  resigning  member's  name  is  seen 
billed  at  the  theatres  controlled  by  the  Association. 
Many  members  are  out  of  work,  and  have  no  offers 
for  future  engagements.  There  are  underground 
murmurings  of  discontent.  Some  of  the  Independ- 
ent houses  go  out  of  business.  The  funds  of  the 
Society  are  exhausted.  It  is  in  debt,  deeply  in  debt, 
and  every  plan,  scheme,  arrangement  or  method  is 
resorted  to  to  reimburse  its  coffers,  pay  off  its  debts, 
and  keep  idle  and  discontented  members  placated. 
Different  boards  meet  regularly.  The  Society  meets 
every  Sunday,  as  usual.  Many  sacrifices  continue 
to  be  made.  There  is  argument,  argument,  argu- 
ment, and  though  the  echo  of  the  old  enthusiasm  re- 
mains, and  indeed  will  always  remain  with  those 
who  meant  it,  still  the  first  battle  is  over;  much  en- 
ergy has  been  spent,  and  the  band  doesn't  play  any 
more.  Resignations  continue  to  come  in,  and  the 
Fool  goes  almost  crazy.    Truly,  his  dream  is  dis- 


i66  ^p  jLatip 

solving.  Well,  the  pendulum  must  swing  both  ways. 
At  all  events  he  will  stick  to  the  ship.  Many  mem- 
bers who  were  now  working  for  the  Association  did 
not  trouble  to  show  their  contracts,  or  pay  any 
commission  to  their  own  booking  offices,  so  the 
Board  of  Directors  drew  up  the  following  contract, 
and  all  members  that  could  be  reached  signed  it: 

"We,  the  undersigned  members  of  the  theatrical 
profession,  do  hereby  employ  the  White  Rats 
Vaudeville  Agency  as  our  sole  and  exclusive  book- 
ing agent  for  the  term  of  two  years  from  the  date  of 
this  contract,  agreeing  not  to  accept  or  play  any 
Vaudeville  engagement  not  booked  through  said 
agency;  and  we  severally  agree  to  pay  said  agent 
for  services  rendered  in  booking  us  during  said  time 
five  per  cent,  of  the  gross  amount  severally  received 
by  us  from  all  Vaudeville  engagements  during  said 
time  of  two  years,  payable  as  received  by  us,  whether 
said  Vaudeville  engagement  is  obtained  through  said 
agency  or  not. 

"The  White  Rats  Vaudeville  Agency  agree  with 
each  of  the  undersigned  severally  to  maintain  a 
booking  office  in  the  City  of  New  York,  and  to  exert 
its  best  efforts  to  obtain  Vaudeville  engagements  for 
each  of  the  undersigned. 

"In  witness  whereof  we  have  hereunto  set  our 
several  hands  and  seals,  the  seal  of  one  being  the 
seal  of  all." 

Hundreds  of  members  signed  the  above  contract, 


but  only  a  few  paid  in  for  a  short  time.  The  idea 
was  finally  abandoned  altogether.  In  the  meantime, 
the  Vaudeville  Agents,  those  who  had  been  deprived 
of  their  clients  by  the  merry  war,  had  formed  an 
Association  of  their  own  to  decide  on  some  way  to 
get  back  into  the  game.  It  was  proposed  in  the 
White  Rats  that  they  offer  certain  of  these  agents 
desk  room  in  the  Fraternity's  Booking  Offices,  and 
give  them  two  and  one-half  per  cent,  on  all  business 
transacted  by  them  severally,  as  it  was  thought  that 
they  would  be  more  capable  of  handling  this  phase 
of  the  situation  than  inexperienced  members  of  the 
Society,  who  now  had  these  matters  in  charge.  The 
Board  of  Directors  is  deadlocked  on  this  question 
for  over  a  week.  Some  don't  want  the  agents  at 
any  price.  Some  think  the  agents  necessary  on  the 
outside,  and  others  want  them  in  their  offices  under 
their  control,  where  they  can  watch  them.  It  is 
finally  decided  to  offer  them  desk  room,  but  when 
the  offer  is  made  it  is  refused,  and  eventually  W. 
W.  Freeman  is  brought  on,  from  the  Western 
Branch  of  the  Managers'  Association  to  take  charge 
of  the  White  Rats'  Booking  Offices,  in  conjunction 
with  Milton  Aborn  and  Mart  M.  Fuller. 

The  months  go  by,  and  many  more  members  re- 
sign. Others  remain  absent  from  the  meetings 
through  lack  of  interest,  or  perhaps  fatigue.  The 
Carnival  is  forgotten;  very  little  money  is  coming 
in  in  dues ;  there  are  no  more  initiations.    The  loyal 


1 68  ^p  La  Dp 

members  exert  their  utmost  endeavors  to  keep  the 
Order  intact.  They  attend  all  the  meetings,  contrib- 
ute their  money,  acting  on  committees,  planning, 
thinking,  working,  hoping  eventually  to  pay  off  the 
debts  of  the  Order.  Ezra  Kendall  is  much  in  evi- 
dence. His  arguments  have  great  weight  with  all 
members.  Every  meeting  he  takes  his  place  at  one 
end  of  the  Hall  opposite  to  the  Dromio,  and  back 
and  forth  they  argue  matters  out.  Night  and  day 
the  Fool  is  begging  members  to  be  loyal,  pleading 
with  others  to  pay  up  their  dues,  and  urging  others 
to  join.  Everywhere  people  ask  him  if  the  Society 
is  still  in  existence.  He  is  growing  weak  and  thin, 
and  the  members  are  looking  much  towards  Kendall. 
Again  the  Dromio  meets  Mantwa,  who  says  to  him; 
"What,  are  you  still  alive?  I  heard  you  had  gone 
mad."  The  Dromio  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 
Mantwa  continued:  "Well,  you've  had  your  fling, 
and  a  pretty  mess  you  have  made  of  it,  to  be  sure.  I 
hear  you  refused  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year?" 
"Yes,"  said  the  Dromio;  "I  accepted  a  benefit  in- 
stead." "Well,  I  suppose  that  appealed  to  you," 
laughed  Mantwa.  "It  was  more  showy."  "It  was 
a  demonstration  of  their  loyalty,"  said  the  Fool. 

"Well,  I'll  give  you  credit  for  one  thing,"  said 
Mantwa,  "nobody  but  a  fool  could  have  built  his 
house  on  the  quicksand  wherein  you  dug,  and  struck 
any  foiind.ilion  whatever.  Your  whole  basis  is  dis- 
content.    Discontent  of  what?     Of  conditions  af- 


l^auDcUille  169 

fecting  your  fellows,  you  will  say;  but  when  they 
are  worthy  of  better  conditions,  they  will  have  them. 
If  you  wish  to  be  a  real  martyr,  why  do  you  not  go 
and  work  for  those  who  are  really  in  need,  those  in 
the  slums,  tenements  and  sweatshops?  You  will  be 
as  easily  torn  to  pieces  for  your  pains.  Why  don't 
you  liberate  those  little  children  who  work  in  the 
cotton  mills  of  the  South?  These  gay  and  airy 
people  of  yours  are  the  freest  people  on  earth,  and 
the  most  overpaid.  Why  don't  you  go  into  politics 
and  be  a  reformer?  You  are  like  a  fakir  standing 
on  a  street  corner  in  front  of  a  glass  tank  full  of 
showy  fish  of  different  colors,  and  saying  to  the 
crowds:  'Behold!  these  things  on  these  fish  that 
look  to  you,  people,  like  fins,  are  really  wings !  Wait, 
and  you  will  see  them  all  fly !  They  are  angels,  dis- 
guised as  fish!  If  you  wait  they  will  fly  for  you!  But 
it  is  apparent  to  all  that  they  never  fly.  They  are 
just  fish,  Dromio;  that's  all,  just  fish,  and  your 
naming  them  angels  will  never  change  them.  Why 
do  you  continue  to  praise  them?  Do  you  know  the 
ridiculous  part  you  are  playing?" 

"I  know  I  am  playing  some  kind  of  a  part,"  said 
the  Fool. 

"Do  you  appreciate  the  humor  of  Don  Quixote 
fighting  the  Windmill?"  said  Mantwa. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Fool.  "And  I  know  I  seem  some- 
thing like  that,  and  I  like  it.  It  is  the  part  I  am  cast 
to  play.    It  is  picturesque.    The  part  suits  me.    *I 


can  see  myself  in  it,'  as  the  actors  say.  I  am  bizarre, 
grotesque.  But  in  me,  in  all  of  us,  as  in  'Hamlet,* 
there  is  more  than  seems,  good  Mantvva.  Do  you 
understand  what  I  mean?" 

"No,"  said  Mantwa,  "not  unless  you  mean  that 
you  are  content  to  be  a  living  laughing  stock  for  all 
the  world." 

"That  is  just  what  I  must  be,"  said  Dromio,  "de- 
plore it  as  I  may,  and  as  for  their  shortcomings,  I 
see  in  them  only  that  which  belongs  to  me — their 
goodness." 

"Well,"  said  Mantwa,  "a  few  months  ago  you 
were  being  called  'The  man  without  a  price.'  In  a 
few  months  hence  you  will  be  known  as  a  man  with- 
out the  price.  I  suppose  you  know  that  already  you 
are  the  butt  of  every  jest  in  the  Tenderloin?  Your 
name  has  only  to  be  mentioned  to  raise  a  laugh.  You 
are  the  human  joke  of  gay  New  York." 

"No,  I  did  not  know  it,"  said  the  Dromio,  "but  I 
don't  much  care.  I  laugh  sometimes  at  myself, 
when  my  heart  is  breaking." 

"But  you  fitted  yourself  for  something  different," 
said  Mantwa.  "You  had  a  great  chance,  and  while 
you  have  been  fighting  for  this  cause  (Oh,  God,  that 
word  nearly  chokes  me!) — while  you  have  been 
blowing  your  bubbles  into  oblivion,  several  of  your 
Rats,  as  you  call  them,  have  made  their  hits  and  are 
on  their  way  to  fame." 

"Well,  what  is  the  use  of  going  all  over  it  again?" 


l^auDeDille  171 

said  the  Fool.  "I  heard  a  song,  that's  all.  I  just 
heard  a  song,  and  I  listened.  You  will  never  hear  it. 
You  don't  know  what  it  means.  I  will  listen  to  the 
end.    That's  all.    Good  day." 

And  again  the  Fool  sought  out  Gipsy  Jim  for  con- 
solation. 

"Oh !  that  Mantwa !"  said  he  to  Gipsy  Jim.  "He 
is  perfect  Hell  to  me  I  If  I  had  to  meet  him  twice 
a  week,  I'd  go  mad !" 

"What  does  he  say?"  said  Jim. 

"Oh!  he  says  everything!  He  has  all  the  argu- 
ments of  the  other  side  at  his  fingertips.  Nothing  is 
worthy  with  him  if  it  doesn't  carry  with  it  present 
proof  of  its  availability." 

"Well,  forget  him,"  said  Jim.  "We'll  stick  to 
our  gims  and  beat  them  yet.  Have  another  drink. 
Some  day  they  will  found  cities  after  the  fashion 
of  our  Order." 

After  some  more  talk,  Jim  left  him  in  a  reverie 
over  his  cigar.  He  sat  for  an  hour,  with  his  eyes 
half  closed,  thinking. 

"Oh,  God!  he  said  to  himself,  "what  prodigious 
vanity  there  is  in  all  of  us — and  especially  in  me. 
How  self-c*"ntered  I  am.  Why  cannot  a  man  do 
his  work,  and  never  see  himself,  even  in  visions? 
What  is  fame  but  the  mouthing  of  your  name  by  a 
rabble  who  take  their  cue  from  a  few  credulous  ones 
who  have  made  a  guess  about  you  ?  What  man  ever 
knew  another's  soul?     In  proportion  to  the  light 


172  ^p  La  Dp 

given  you,  you  must  hide  yourself.  Francis  Bacon 
must  have  had  a  sixth  sense.  Mantwa!  I  must 
either  kill  him  or  die  myself!" 

Thus  musing,  he  fell  asleep  at  the  table.  He  was 
awakened  by  a  crowd  of  members  standing  around 
him  singing  the  emblem  of  the  Order. 

"Asleep  at  the  switch!"  they  cried.  Drinks  were 
ordered,  and  there  was  much  talking,  bantering, 
kidding,  and  alcoholic  philosophy  indulged  in,  which 
wound  up  in  a  night  of  Bachanalian  revelry,  as  is 
the  wont  of  all  frequenters  of  the  Tenderloin, 
whether  they  be  there  for  life,  or  death,  or  dreams. 


l^auDetJille  173 


A  O^lanr?  at  larrgmor?. 

XXII. 

THE  late  Maurice  Barrymore  had  been  all 
through  the  battle.  He  was  a  man  noted 
for  his  prowess  in  many  ways,  besides 
being  a  splendid  actor  and  a  playwright.  He 
wrote  "Najesda,"  from  which  it  is  said  "La  Tosca" 
was  taken,  and  many  will  remember  the  contro- 
versy appertaining  thereto  which  appeared  in  the 
London  and  Parisian  press  some  years  ago  between 
M,  Sardou  and  himself,  and  out  of  which  he  came 
with  colors  flying,  as  indeed  he  did  in  all  contro- 
versies, as  he  was  especially  at  home  in  the  use 
of  satire  and  burning  invective.  He  hated  all 
forms  of  cant  and  sophistry,  and  woe  betide  any 
ill-advised  pretender  who  dared  to  enter  the  lists 
with  him!  His  wit  was  brilliant,  scintilating,  pun- 
gent, but  in  his  heart  he  was  a  poet.  However,  he 
was  on  the  wane  at  this  time,  and  his  admiration  for 
the  Fool  was  great.  A  specimen  of  spontaneous 
word  painting  is  recalled.  One  day  he  came  into  a 
Board  Meeting  and,  as  the  Fool  passed  out  of  the 


174  ^P  JlaDp 

door  into  the  next  room  to  get  some  papers,  he  said 
to  the  members  assembled:  "You  see  that  fellow? 
He  is  a  Fool.  I  once  came  through  a  glacial  region 
where  men  were  made  of  stone  and  hearts  w^ere 
made  of  ice,  and  those  men  were  all  congealed  to- 
gether, till  they  formed  one  huge  mountain  that 
reached  to  the  sky.  There  was  no  way  around  at 
either  end,  and  in  front  of  this  mountain  of  rock 
and  ice  stood  a  fool  glaring  at  it.  Back  of  him  stood 
his  army  of  Mountebanks.  I  said  to  him : .  'Whither 
goest,  Fool?'  and  he  answered,  'Through  the  moun- 
tain.' I  ran  away,  shouting,  'Fool!  Fool!  Fool!' 
My  laugh  reverberated  all  through  the  valleys  of 
the  glacial  region.  Anon,  I  returned,  and  there  stood 
the  Fool.  His  penknife  was  splintered,  his  hands 
were  bleeding,  but,  by  all  the  gods,  the  mountain 
was  gone!  and  the  Fool  and  his  Army  went  march- 
ing on!" 


l^auDetJille  '  175 


XXIII. 

YES,  true  enough,  his  Army  was  marching  on! 
However,  they  were  not  marching  very  fast 
a  few  months  later.  In  fact,  the  movement 
was  almost  stagnated.  Still  the  members  continued 
to  meet  regularly,  and  pay  off  debts,  and  reconstruct 
the  Order. 

Another  year  goes  by  in  this  way,  and  again  the 
Dromio  is  elected  President  unanimously.  Ezra 
Kendall  is  made  Vice  President,  and  Mardo  the  Sto- 
ical, Secretary. 

Then  follows  nearly  another  year  of  hard  strug- 
gling against  apathy  and  indifference.  The  Fool  is 
discredited  everywhere,  except  among  his  own  true 
Knights.  There  are  now  barely  seventy-five  of 
them  left.  Still,  they  are  the  best  in  the  profession, 
and  they  have  been  tried.  How  they  have  been 
tried ! 

As  Kendall  afterwards  said,  they  wintered  at  Val- 
ley Forge. 

The  Little  Gold  Lady  begins  to  fear  for  the  Dro- 


176  ^p  LaDp 

niio's  reason.  He  is  drinking.  The  world  he  tried 
to  teach  has  got  hold  of  him,  and  is  teaching  him  its 
own  way.  Groups  on  Broadway,  that  did  him  much 
lip  service  some  little  time  ago,  now  shrug  their 
shoulders  and  sneer  when  he  passes,  and  tell  each 
other  funny  stories  about  him.  All  his  belongings 
are  in  pawn,  and  again  he  is  in  debt.  He  is  morose, 
irritable,  frenzied.  He  walks  the  streets  of  New 
York  with  the  good  Mardo  and  bullies  him.  When 
strangers,  who  heard  of  his  Quixotic  struggles,  at- 
tempt to  guy  him,  he  knocks  them  down,  and  then 
goes  home  and  weeps  that  he  ever  should  come  to 
the  pass  of  striking  a  fellow  being.  He  is  like  an 
Indian  running  amuck.  He  has  become  impossible. 
He  can't  drink  that  bitter  draught — that  what  they 
won  collectively,  they  gave  back  secretly  as  individ- 
uals, and  then  for  shame  left  him  high  and  dry, 
alone  in  a  mocking,  scoffing  world.  Well,  not  alone. 
There  were  seventy-five  true  Knights  of  Starland. 
But  they  were  not  blamed.  He  was  the  mark.  A 
London  manager  comes  over  to  engage  him  for 
England. 

He  has  not  seen  Mantwa  for  a  year,  and  now  he 
comes  upon  him  suddenly. 

"I  am  going  to  give  you  one  parting  piece  of  ad- 
vice," said  Mantwa,  "and  if  you  fail  to  take  it  we 
will  cease  to  meet.  I  want  you  to  go  to  those  mem- 
bers who  are  still  with  you,  and  have  them  each  put 
up  a  certain  sum  of  money  into  a  common  fund  as 


l^auUeWIIe  177 

an  earnest  of  good  faith,  and  as  an  investment  for 
their  own  protection.  You  can  call  it  the  Investment 
Fund,  or  Stai  Legion,  or  whatever  name  you 
choose,  and  every  member  must  pay  into  this  fund 
a  certain  percentage  of  his  earnings  weekly,  the  same 
to  be  accredited  to  his  own  account;  and  he  must 
forfeit  same,  or  a  large  percentage  of  same,  when- 
ever he  shall  for  any  reason  forsake  the  Fraternity. 
Then,  if  you  wish  to  continue  fooling  yourself,  you 
can  still  pretend  that  it  is  goodness  of  heart  that 
keeps  them  loyal  to  you,  but  those  who  do  weaken 
in  the  future  will  at  least  have  to  sacrifice  some- 
thing to  those  who  have  courage  and  faith  in  the 
outcome  of  your  dream. 

"We  are  living  in  a  business  age,  my  Dromio.  All 
of  us  but  you.  You  are  either  back  with  the  Knight 
Errants  of  old,  or  in  some  future  time,  or  in  some 
raphsody  that  these  men  cannot  comprehend,  and 
you  cannot  blame  them.  In  this  age  you  must  play 
with  money.  Dollars  are  the  chips  in  the  game,  and 
nothing  else  counts.  You  have  not  even  Fear  as  a 
weapon  to  wield,  because  you  cannot  shoot  a  traitor 
dead,  as  can  a  general  in  the  army.  You  must  strike 
at  their  hearts  through  their  pockets,  and  while  you 
advance  them  through  their  own  possession,  or  fear 
of  losing  that  which  they  already  have,  you  will  be 
rendering  them  as  great  a  service  as  if  your  faith  in 
them  were  wisely  grounded." 


178  QPP  jLatip 

"Oh !  I  tried  that  in  the  beginning,"  said  the  Dro- 
mio,  "but  they  voted  it  down." 

"Well,  you  must  try  again,  and  keep  as  members 
of  your  Order  only  those  who  will  back  up  their 
words  with  their  money." 

"How  about  those  who  haven't  money  to  spare?" 

"Well,  give  them  time  to  get  some.  You  must 
stop  dreaming  just  for  a  little  while,  Dromio.  You 
must  try  them  out,  now,  once  and  for  all.  You  are 
weak  and  ill.  You  have  aged  twenty  years  in  the 
last  two.  Make  them  put  up  their  money,  and  then 
if  they  all  fail  you  but  ten,  or  your  original  eight, 
for  that  matter,  what  you  will  have  left  will  be 
quality,  and  with  quality  you  can  build  again.  Num- 
bers prove  nothing.  Look  you,  a  dozen  men  rule 
the  destinies  of  your  nation  of  eighty  millions.  With 
other  nations  it  is  the  same.  What  do  they  rule 
with?  Money  1  Why  do  the  dozen  stick  together? 
Money!  Why  are  they  stronger  than  Presidents 
or  Kings?  Money!  Everybody  knows  this  but 
you,  and  those  of  your  remaining  members  who  will 
not  put  up  their  money,  do  not  belong  to  you.  They 
have  not  the  faith  of  the  mustard  seed.  So  long — 
I  must  be  going — I  have  an  appointment.  Have 
courage,  old  chap.  You  have  done  your  best,  ac- 
cording to  your  lights.  So  long.  I'll  see  you  to- 
morrow," and  Mantwa  was  gone. 

The  next  day  the  Dromio  called  a  meeting  of  his 
friends  and,  at  his  request,  ten  members  placed  one 


l^autieviflle  179 

hundred  dollars  apiece  in  an  Investment  Fund,  and 
Ezra  Kendall  was  made  Secretary  and  Treasurer. 
And  from  that  day  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from 
this  Fund  was  preached  at  every  meeting.  All  the 
possibilities  of  success  or  failure  of  theatrical  in- 
vestments by  actors  were  analyzed  weekly,  and  all 
arguments  proved  that  the  only  sure  and  safe  plan 
of  reconstruction  was  through  the  medium  of  inter- 
esting all  present  and  future  members  of  the  Society 
in  this  Fund  or  Legion,  as  it  was  sometimes  called. 
Of  course,  there  were  those  who  continued  to  preach 
against  it,  and  who  indeed  tried  to  thwart  every 
move  made  for  advancement  of  any  kind.  They 
continued  to  yell,  "What  will  the  Managers  say?" 
as  if  they  themselves  were  made  mere  chattels,  or 
were  owned  body  and  soul  by  other  men.  Mean- 
while, Kendall  sent  the  members  weekly  statements 
of  their  financial  standing  in  the  Legion,  and  the 
Fund  continued  to  grow.  When  twenty-seven  mem- 
bers had  joined,  the  following  Prospectus  was  dic- 
tated by  the  Dromio,  typewritten  by  Fred  Niblo,  and 
a  printed  copy  sent  to  all  members  of  the  Frater- 
nity: 


I  So  9^^  La  Dp 


XXIV. 

Prospectus  of  The  "Star  Legion." 

THE  Star  Legion  is  a  Society  of  reputable 
players  chosen  from  all  branches  of  the 
theatrical  profession  on  account  of  their 
ability,  reputation  and  character,  for  the  purpose 
of  conducing  to  the  welfare,  advancement  and  in- 
dependence of  the  player  and  playgoer,  and  by 
forming  an  Investment  Fund  among  the  players 
to  be  used  in  co-operation  betvi^een  player,  patron, 
author  and  manager,  to  thus  insure  practicability. 
The  members  of  the  above  Society  believe  that 
by  co-operating  with  the  public  in  certain  invest- 
ments they  can  best  serve  the  interests  of  every 
phase  of  the  theatrical  profession  by  conducing 
to  its  advancement  in  every  way,  and  at  the  same 
time  secure  for  those  who  become  financially 
interested  better  dividends  than  can  be  found 
elsewhere  in  any  theatrical  investment.  The  cer- 
tainty of  this  will  be  easily  seen  by  the  citizens  and 


l^auDem'lIe  iSi 

managers  of  each  community  with  whom  we  wish 
to  co-operate,  when  confidence  is  thoroughly  estab- 
lished by  the  quahty  of  our  membership,  by  the 
steady  growth  of  same,  and  especially  when  we  have 
made  paying  enterprises  of  our  first  ventures. 

And  this  we  cannot  but  do,  as  will  be  seen  by  a 
careful  study  of  this  Investment  Fund  plan,  full  in- 
formation regarding  any  point  of  which  will  be 
furnished  anyone  applying  to  the  President  or  Sec- 
retary. The  Star  Legion  is  therefore  co-operative, 
fraternal,  and  social.  It  is  co-operative  in  its  rela- 
tion to  its  own  members,  who,  by  concentrating  a 
portion  of  their  collective  earnings,  and  investing 
same  in  conjunction  with  the  public  and  managers, 
for  the  purpose  of  insuring  legitimate  competition, 
and  by  being  thus  financially  interested,  of  assuring 
said  public  and  managers  of  support  or  co-opera- 
tion. The  players  can,  by  saving  and  concentrating 
a  very  small  portion  of  their  collective  weekly  earn- 
ings, conduce  in  every  way  to  their  financial  inde- 
pendence and  their  general  advancement  without  in 
any  way  risking  the  enmity  of  discrimination  of 
anyone.  As  by  numbering  among  our  first  member- 
ship only  reputable  artists,  whose  services  are  in 
demand,  and  by  not  restricting  any  member  as  to 
whom  he  shall  or  shall  not  play  for,  or  through 
whom  he  shall  or  shall  not  book  his  engagements,  or 
in  any  way  interfering  with  his  individual  liberty, 
we  can  play  for,  and  remain  on  good  terms  with. 


i82  0^p  JLaDp 

any  and  all  men,  and  at  the  same  time  be  interested 
in  such  enterprises  as  shall  insure  a  continuance  of 
these  amicable  relations. 

The  method  for  the  accumulation  and  mainte- 
nance of  the  Investment  Fund  is  simple:  Each  ac- 
cepted candidate,  when  joining,  pays  into  the  Fund 
the  sum  of  $ioo.  This  money  is  his,  and  always 
remains  his  while  he  is  a  member.  In  the  event  of 
his  withdrawal,  a  forfeit  will  be  deducted,  as  per 
contract.  Accepted  applicants  may  pay  this  first 
$100  in  instalments  of  not  less  than  $5  each.  Each 
member,  after  having  paid  $100,  agrees  to  further 
pay  into  this  Fund  the  sum  of  not  less  than  one  per 
cent,  of  which  he  declares  his  weekly  salary  to  be; 
or  he  may  pay  in  as  much  more  as  he  pleases ;  but  he 
cannot  pay  in  less  than  one  per  cent,  of  his  salary. 
No  matter  how  much  a  member  pays  into  the  Fund, 
he  cannot  have  more  than  one  vote.  If  he  does  not 
wish  to  come  in  on  the  percentage  basis,  he  can  pay 
into  the  Fund  not  less  than  $5  per  week.  For  in- 
stance, a  member  earning  $100  per  week  can  pay 
into  the  Fund  as  low  as  $1  per  week,  or  as  much 
more  as  he  pleases,  if  he  joins  this  Fund  on  the  per- 
centage basis;  but,  if  he  does  not  join  on  the  per- 
centage basis,  he  cannot  pay  less  than  $5  per  week 
for  each  week  that  he  plays,  no  matter  what  his 
salary  or  earnings  may  be.  This  method  is  pursued 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  an  opportunity  to  those 
who  play  on  percentages,  etc.,  to  join;  also,  for  such 


I^autietjflle  183 

actors  who  manage  and  back  their  own  companies. 
Members  will  only  be  expected  to  pay  on  such  weeks 
as  they  play.  Several  of  our  members  are  now  pay- 
ing into  the  Fund  ten  per  cent,  of  their  earnings, 
and  it  is  conjectured  by  the  most  conservative  that 
for  each  member  who  pays  in  one  per  cent,  there  will 
be  at  least  one  who  will  pay  in  at  least  nine  per  cent. 
of  his  earnings,  thus  making  an  average  of  5  per 
cent,  per  member  even  during  the  first  year,  until 
we  have  firmly  established  confidence  in  the  practic- 
ability and  stability  of  this  plan.  And  five  per  cent. 
of  the  weekly  earnings  of  the  present  members  of 
this  Fund  will  amount  to  many  thousands  of  dol- 
lars per  annum.  There  will  be  no  watered  stock. 
No  member  will  have  more  than  one  vote.  All  books 
will  be  open  to  all  members  for  inspection.  The 
membership  for  the  first  year  will  be  limited  to  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five.  These  first  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  members  will  be  accepted  because 
they  will  possess  all  the  requirements  necessary  for 
the  furtherance  of  our  aims.  The  average  weekly 
salary  of  the  present  membership  of  this  Fund 
is  more  than  $250  per  member,  and  each  member's 
services  are  in  constant  demand  by  the  public.  Sup- 
posing the  first  membership  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  receive  an  average  salary  of  $200  per 
week,  and  that  each  member  plays  forty  weeks  a 
year,  and  the  income  to  the  Fund  averages  five  per 
cent,  per  member.    This  would  amount  to  exactly 


1 84  ®p  JLatip 

$50,000  per  annum,  and,  of  course,  the  same  mem- 
bership playing  only  twenty  weeks  a  year,  and  sav- 
ing ten  per  cent,  collectively,  would  amount  to  the 
same  total.  The  possibilities  consequent  upon  the 
judicious  investment  of  this  amount  alone  will  give 
some  idea  as  to  what  may  be  accomplished  with  an 
extended  membership  and  co-operation  with  the  pub- 
lic. It  will  be  seen  by  the  above  conditions  that 
there  is  no  intention  on  the  part  of  the  promulgators 
of  this  plan  to  antagonize  any  man  or  body  of  men. 
The  reason  the  membership  will  be  limited  for  the 
first  year  is  because  we  have  discovered  difficulty  in 
appealing  to  the  understanding  of  large  numbers  too 
suddenly.  We  expect,  some  day,  to  have  the  whole 
Player  Profession  co-operating  with  us.  But  we 
wish  to  first  give  evidence  as  to  the  practicability  of 
our  aims.  As  a  fraternity,  we  will  continue  to  exert 
our  utmost  endeavors  to  bring  about  such  feelings 
of  amity  as  should  exist  between  our  professional 
bretliren;  to  protect  original  vaudeville  acts  and  ma- 
terial from  piracy  and  plagiarism;  negotiate  with 
railroads  and  other  corporations  with  a  view  to  se- 
curing such  advantages  as  we  are  entitled  to;  assist 
each  other  in  securing  engagements;  and  in  every 
way  provide  for  our  members  such  furtherance  of 
their  individual  and  collective  prosperity  as  can 
only  be  secured  by  organization  on  a  large  scale. 

The  Secretary  and  Treasurer  will  be  under  bond 
in  excess  of  our  possible  yearly  income.    All  moneys 


l^auDetJiUe  185 

will  be  placed  in  savings  banks  in  the  name  of  the 
Society  until  invested;  and,  as  before  stated,  all 
books  will  be  open  at  all  times  for  inspection  by  our 
members.  Though  stress  has  been  laid  on  the  money 
earning  capacity  of  our  present  membership,  it  must 
be  borne  in  mind  that  an  applicant's  eligibility  will 
not  depend  on  the  amount  of  salary  he  receives,  but 
on  his  character  and  standing  as  a  gentleman  and 
artist,  and  his  ability  to  appreciate  a  progressive  idea 
and  honest  endeavor. 

This  Legion  is  not  confined  to  any  particular 
phase  of  theatricals.  It  is  open  to  the  whole  player 
profession.  That  there  is  nothing  to  sacrifice,  and 
much  to  gain,  in  becoming  a  member  is  plain.  Its 
many  advantages  and  infinite  possibilities  will  appear 
clear,  however,  to  those  who  think,  and  who  have 
the  welfare  of  the  Profession  at  heart. 
The  Dromio,  President. 
Ezra  Kendall,  Secretary  and  Treasurer. 

Directors:  David  C.  Montgomery,  John  L.  Rix- 
ford,  Mark  P.  Murphy,  Junie  McCree,  Fred  Stone, 
Horace  Goldin,  James  F.  Dolan,  Frank  Gardiner, 
Chas.  T.  Aldrich,  George  B.  Reno,  George  Felix, 
Ren  Shields,  George  W.  Monroe,  Sam  Morton, 
Walter  Leroy,  M.  J.  Sullivan,  Nat.  M.  Wills,  Chas. 
McDonald,  Harry  Hayes,  Joe  Birnes,  Harry  Luken, 
Eddie  Foy,  Bobby  Gaylor,  George  Evans,  Todd 
Judge  and  Fred  Niblo. 


i86  q^p  JLa0p 


XXV. 

WHEN  the  Fund  was  soundly  established 
and  in  working  order,  with  a  member- 
ship of  two  score,  and  several  thousands 
of  dollars  in  the  Treasury,  Mantwa  said  to  the 
Dromio : 

"Now,  you  have  made  a  sane  move  at  last.  This 
will  keep  them  together,  and  with  this  Fund  con- 
tinually growing,  Kendall  can  hold  them  together  till 
they  are  again  threatened,  and  when  they  begin  to 
stampede  into  the  Fold  again,  perhaps  judgment  will 
be  used.  There  is  a  man  of  judgment.  A  man  of 
sense,  that  Kendall.  He  is,  as  you  would  say,  'from 
Missouri.*  He  doesn't  bank  on  promises.  You 
must  show  him.  So  whatever  may  happen  to  you, 
your  Society  is  established  now,  once  for  all.  You 
should  have  done  this  at  the  outset." 

"I  told  you  that  I  tried  to  do  so,"  said  the  Dro- 
mio, "but  they  voted  me  down." 

"You  should  have  insisted,"  said  Mantwa;  "you 
held  the  reins,  but  you  wanted  to  be  modest.    You 


l^auDetJille  187 

were  too  easy.  If  at  the  beginning  you  had  pur- 
sued this  plan,  when  they  were  all  hot  and  eagerly 
clamoring  for  admission,  your  Society  would  now 
be  immensely  wealthy.  No  one  would  have  for- 
saken you.  When  interests  are  mutual,  he  who  for- 
sakes the  general  body  also  forsakes  himself;  not 
only  sentimentally,  as  before,  but  financially,  by  way 
of  forfeit.  And  they  who  remain  will  thus  profit 
financially  in  proportion  to  the  disaffection.  Please 
keep  in  mind  that  we  live  in  an  age  of  gold.  You 
can  only  fight  money  with  money.  Your  attempt 
to  do  otherwise  has  proven  it.  Meanwhile,  you 
must  go  away  somewhere  and  forget,  or  you  will 
die.  Think  of  your  wife  and  little  ones,  and  get 
away  for  awhile,  at  least.  You  are  ill,  and  every- 
one knows  you  are  living  principally  on  stimulants. 
Your  heart  is  broken,  but  it  will  mend.  Get  away, 
Dromio;  accept  that  engagement  in  England,  and 
get  away.  Kendall  will  keep  these  fellows  together. 
They  are  all  your  friends,  anyway.  They  are  the 
sifted  wheat  from  all  the  chaff.  They  will  be  true 
to  you  forever.  If  it  were  only  your  life,  I  would 
hold  my  tongue,  but  think  of  The  Little  Gold  Lady, 
who  has  been  so  true  to  you,  and  of  the  little  ones. 
Think  of  them.  You  are  sacrificing  them  all  now 
unnecessarily.  You  have  listened  to  me  once.  Heed 
me  just  once  more,  and  get  away." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Dromio,  "I  will  go  to  Eng- 
land," 


i88  ■  Qip  JLaDp 

It  is  nearly  certain  that  the  Investment  Fund,  or 
Star  Legion,  saved  the  Society  at  this  time.  Among 
the  fraternal  body,  certain  members  continue!  to  rail 
against  all  attempts  at  business  of  any  kind,  espe- 
cially against  the  booking  offices,  and,  indeed,  these 
were  now  losing  concerns.  As  the  managers  having 
succeeded  in  wiping  out  all  opposition  there  were  no 
theatres  where  members  could  be  booked,  and  both 
Eastern  and  Western  offices  were  soon  compelled  to 
close  their  doors,  though  James  Powers  worked 
himself  to  a  whisper  to  make  the  Chicago  office  pay, 
and  Kendall,  Mark  Murphy  and  Bobby  Gaylor  did 
all  in  their  power  to  assist  him.  Other  members  ad- 
vanced plans  to  keep  the  Eastern  office  going,  but 
all  without  avail.  However,  this  fact  was  notice- 
able: that  the  moment  business  was  at  an  end  in 
the  Society,  apathy  set  in,  except  as  regarding  the 
Investment  Fund.  Those  who  were  not  enthusias- 
tically for  it,  were  open  or  secret  antagonists.  At 
all  events,  it  kept  things  going. 

The  members  of  it  were  as  enthusiastic  as  ever; 
perhaps  more  so.  They  recognized  that  they  were 
at  the  last  ditch,  and  they  fought  like  heroes.  And 
that  their  ship  of  Brotherhood  ever  sailed  through 
the  stagnant  sea  of  those  depressing  days  speaks 
wonders  for  those  who  were  faithful  to  the  Cause, 
and  yet  again,  wonders  for  the  stubbornness  and 
businesslike  methods  of  Kendall.  Every  week  they; 
continued  to  receive  statements  of  their  standing, 


^auDetJflle  189 

in  the  same  spirit  as  of  old,  and  as  if  the  Society 
were  still  a  flourishing  success — and  so  it  was  in 
quality.  Every  week  the  Fraternity  continued  to 
hold  meetings  and  listen  to  arguments,  mostly  about 
the  advantages  of  the  Fund. 

In  the  meantime  a  great  change  had  come  over  the 
Dromio.  He  was  tired  in  soul  and  body.  He  ac- 
cepted an  engagement  at  the  Palace  Theatre,  in  Lon- 
don, and  after  leaving  all  the  affairs  of  the  Order  in 
Kendall's  hands,  he  and  The  Little  Gold  Lady  and 
weeuns  sailed  away  on  the  good  ship  Cedric  for 
England.  There  were  many  friends  at  the  wharf 
to  see  the  Fool  and  his  family  away,  among  them 
was  Gipsy  Jim.  He  took  Dromio  aside,  and  said: 
"Answer  me  one  question  before  you  go."  "Did  I 
ever  refuse  to  ?"  said  the  Foolish  One.  "Well,  then, 
who  is  Mantwa?"  "Did  you  ever  hear  of  Socrates 
and  his  Daemon?"  "No."  "Did  you  ever  read 
Poe's  'William  Wilson?'  "  "No."  "Did  you  ever 
read  Balzac's 'Magic  Skin?'"  "No."  "Well,  'Dr. 
Jekyl  and  Mr.  Hyde,'  then?"  "Yes,  I've  read  that, 
but  what  has  it  to  do  with  Mantwa?" 

"Listen,  Jim,"  said  Dromio.  "Mantwa  is  the 
other  side  of  my  world.  Everything  is  double,  one 
against  the  other.  Everything  is  twain,  one  within 
the  other.  In  proportion  to  our  dreams,  there  is  a 
balance  born,  else  we  would  go  insane.  *Dr.  Jehkyl 
and  Mr.  Hyde'  are  types  of  the  good  and  bad  in 
man.    Dromio  and  Mantwa  are  types  of  dream  and 


190  ^p  jLaDp 

fact  But  every  reality  was  once  a  dream.  To  do, 
you  must  first  dream,  and  in  doing  you  must  die. 
Such  is  the  law.  I  have  dreamed,  and  I  have  done, 
and  now  Dromio  is  no  more.  His  work  may  live, 
for  'tis  said  that  nothing  done  in  true  sincerity  of 
heart  is  done  in  vain.  Dromio  heard  the  Song  of 
the  Nightingale,  and  at  that  moment  a  dual  soul  was 
born :  Dromio  the  Dreamer,  and  the  worldly  Mant- 
wa.  Dromio  dissolved  himself  in  his  own  dream. 
He  gave  them  all :  himself,  his  health,  his  life,  his 
career.  Mantwa  must  live  for  those  in  the  cabin 
there,  and  of  this  you  may  be  sure:  Mantwa  will 
succeed.  He  spells  success.  He  is  for  himself. 
Dromio  was  for  others,  and  he  has  had  his  day. 

"Mantwa  is  the  composite  of  all  those  people  with 
whom  we  fraternize  at  our  clubs  and  cafes;  who 
compose  our  audiences,  criticize  our  work,  and, 
among  themselves,  exaggerate  our  faults ;  yet,  know- 
ing that  they  themselves  are  little  better,  are  content 
to  wink.  He  is  the  incarnation  of  all  those  who 
presume  to  judge  a  man's  soul  by  the  label  of  his 
profession.  He  is  Criticism  personified,  and  Judg- 
ment petrified.  Cynic-like,  he  knows  'The  price  of 
everything,  and  the  value  of  nothing.'  He  is  the 
aggregate  of  all  those  who  hold  us  in  contempt 
while  we  struggle  in  obscurity,  and  grab  us  to  heart 
when,  through  some  freak  of  fate,  we  become  the 
vogue;  who  sigh  for  our  ignorance,  yet  ridicule 
every  attempt  made  for  the  betterment  of  our  lives. 


l^auDemile  191 

He  is  the  accumulated  knowledge  of  all  my  worldly 
experience.  He  is  Me.  Shake  hands  with  Mantwa, 
and  say,  Au  Revoir !" 

"Au  Revoir,"  sighed  Jim  the  Gipsy,  as  he  shook 
his  hand;  "but  to  me  you  will  always  be  the  same 
old  Dromio."  "No,  Jim;  henceforth  I  will  be 
Mantwa."  "Well,"  said  Jim,  "you  know  that  hun- 
dred that  I  put  away  for  you  about  fifteen  years 
ago?"  "Yes?"  "Well,  it  is  still  there,  and  I'll  bet 
you  that  hundred  against  a  new  hat  that  when  I 
next  hear  from  you  you'll  be  Dromio  again.  You 
will  succeed  in  London,  and  when  hope  and  strength 
return,  you  will  go  back  to  your  dreams."  "It's  a 
bet.  Goodbye."  "Goodbye,  Dromio."  The  Fool 
rushed  up  the  gang  plank,  and  Jim  shouted  from 
the  wharf  once  more: 

"So  long,  Dromio!    You  old  dreamer!" 

And  the  ship  sailed  away. 

A  month  later  the  Fool  was  the  rage  of  London. 
He  played  the  record  successful  engagement  at  the 
Palace  Theatre,  and  nightly  entertained  the  great 
folk  of  Europe  for  many  months  following.  His 
humor  was  on  every  man's  lips;  his  stories  told 
everywhere.  People  laughed,  and  said :  "He  is  the 
lightest  hearted  jester  alive."  To  him  it  was  all  the 
dance  of  death,  the  mockery  of  buried  hopes  and 
shattered  ideals.  His  success  in  London  was  printed 
in  the  American  papers,  and,  near  the  end  of  the 
summer,  when  Gipsy  Jim  read  that  his  friend  had 


entertained  the  King  for  the  second  time  and  had 
been  exchisively  invited  to  entertain  the  Royal  Fam- 
ily at  Egypt  House,  Cowes,  on  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
during  Yacht  Week,  he  sent  him  the  following  ca- 
blegram : 

"On  the  level,  what's  your  name?  Answer. 
Jim."  And  the  answer  came  back :  "Dromio,  bless 
your  old  Gipsy  heart !    Dromio  forever !" 

Tears  filled  the  Gipsy's  eyes  as  he  folded  the  ca- 
blegram, and  walked  out  through  Central  Park, 
humming  the  Song  of  Brotherly  Love;  the  Song  of 
the  Nightingale;  the  beautiful  strains  of  which  are 
the  first  to  reach  any  stranger's  ears  when  entering 
the  gates  of  Starland. 

There  is  little  more  to  tell. 
Kendall  held  the  reins  for  almost  two  years,  while 
the  Dromio  was  abroad.    The  Knights  of  Starland 
remained  loyal,  though  at  times  it  was  difficult  to 
find  a  quorum  at  a  meeting. 

The  next  election  was  postponed  until  the  Dro- 
mio's  return,  and  at  his  suggestion,  they  elected 
Kendall  President  by  acclamation.  The  Dromio 
left  for  Australia;  and,  in  a  few  months,  Kendall's 
health  also  broke  down  under  the  strain,  and  R.  C. 
Mudge  took  the  chair.  All  the  debts  of  the  Order 
were  paid,  and  there  was  clear  sailing.  All  the  lies 
were  lived  down.  All  the  old  wounds  healed  by 
time.  All  the  old  members  admitted  back,  and  no 
questions  asked.     The  Order  again  grew  in  num- 


l^auHebfUe  193 

bers  by  many  hundreds.  At  the  next  election  R.  C. 
Mudge,  who  had  been  much  in  evidence  since  the 
early  days,  was  elected  President,  and  the  Order 
thrived  for  two  years  more.  Mudge  resigned  during 
his  term  of  office,  and  George  Monroe  piloted  the 
ship  until  the  next  election,  when  Fred  Niblo  was 
made  the  Presiding  Chief  of  Ratland — which  is 
Starland.  Meanwhile,  Harry  Mountford,  who  in 
the  meantime  had  federated  all  the  Actors  of  "the 
Halls"  of  England  and  got  into  an  argument  for 
his  pains,  has  come  to  America  and  reorganized  the 
business  department  of  the  Order,  putting  into  ex- 
ecution once  again  many  ideas  of  the  Droniio. 


194  ^p  JLaUp 


XXVI. 

THIS  Mr.  Mount  ford  is  that  self  same  indefa- 
tigable individual  who,  during  the  recent 
Music  Hall  war  in  England,  succeeded  not 
only  in  his  plans  of  federation,  but  also  in  forming 
an  alliance  of  all  the  kindred  professions  and  occu- 
pations to  assist  the  Music  Hall  artists  until  they 
had  won  their  fight  Or,  at  least,  until  they  had 
gained  certain  points  of  advantage,  such  as  having 
an  official  arbitrator  appointed,  an  award  granted, 
a  more  equitable  contract  agreed  upon  and  other 
concessions  in  favor  of  stage  people. 

And  therefore  as  he  has  rendered  his  brother  and 
sister  artists  of  the  world  a  service  of  inestimable 
value,  a  word  or  two  anent  his  personality,  his 
record  and  character  is  not  out  of  place  here.  Mr. 
Mountford's  retirement  from  the  English  Federa- 
tion was  caused  mostly  through  personal  differences 
of  opinion  with  other  officers  of  that  body.  Yet  he 
nevertheless  came  to  America  with  letters  of  high 
recommendation  from  the  allied  organizations  and 


l^auDetiille  195 

these  were  given  to  him  subsequent  to  his  retire- 
ment from  the  federation. 

He  impresses  one  as  being  fearless  and  true, 
Young,  ardent,  keen,  shrewd,  alert,  and  well  edu- 
cated. A  man  who  has  read  much  and  thought 
more.  He  has  a  knowledge  of  law,  a  fine  sense  of 
humor,  a  high  sense  of  duty  and  the  proportion  of 
things.  Who,  in  preference  to  a  selfish  career,  has 
decided  to  give  himself  to  the  cause  of  the  better- 
ment of  his  fellow  man.  His  regard  for  justice  has 
been  shown  by  his  flat  refusal  during  a  crisis  to  ob- 
serve any  difference  or  partiality  in  dealing  with 
people  of  different  occupations,  whether  of  greater 
or  lesser  money  earning  capacity,  whether  of  sup- 
posed higher  or  lower  dignity,  when  the  same  prom- 
ise of  loyalty  had  been  made  to  all.  Sometimes 
while  being  allowed  the  privilege  of  great  under- 
takings we  are  tested  as  to  whether  we  are  men. 
Whether  while  working  in  some  certain  sphere  of 
effort  our  hopes  are  narrowed  to  its  particular  con- 
fines or  whether  we  can  be  as  broad  as  the  world. 
Mountford,  while  working  for  the  advancement  of 
his  stage  fellows  is  really  for  men.  If  you  say  it 
was  a  just  destiny  that  impelled  him  Westward  after 
he  had  succeeded  in  helping  to  awake  his  fellows  of 
England;  if  you  say  fate  was  only  awarding  him 
for  duties  well  performed,  and  at  the  same  time 
rewarding  those  loyal  ones  over  here  for  so  stead- 
fastly following  their  light  by  sending  them  one 


196  ^p  Hatip 

whom  they  needed ;  the  answer  is :  "That  some  men 
have  certain  things  to  do  that  even  they  themselves 
may  not  know  why,  or  whither  the  hght  may  lead, 
or  the  cause  of  the  impelling,  but  it  matters  little 
on  which  side  of  the  world  they  play  their  parts." 

And  truly  it  seems  that  fate  for  once  was  arrayed 
on  the  side  of  the  strugglers  to  find  this  man  who 
worked  so  earnestly  for  his  fellows  at  home  now 
directing  the  business  movements  of  the  American 
Society,  which  was  the  first  to  take  the  initiative 
in  proclaiming  the  rights  of  the  people  of  the  stage, 
and  which  won  the  first  struggle  for  their  inter- 
ests in  the  history  of  theatricals.  And  it  is  most 
fortunate  for  all  that  as  regards  brains,  heart  and 
energy  combined  with  a  willingness  to  serve  his 
fellows,  Mr.  Fred  Niblo,  the  present  popular  Presi- 
dent of  the  Society,  is  in  the  same  category  as  Mr. 
Mountford. 

The  other  officers,  trustees  and  Board  of  Direc- 
tors have  been  chosen  with  great  care  and  with  a 
view  to  their  uprightness,  steadfastness  and  ability. 
Among  them  are  many  who  fought  all  the  way 
through  the  storm  with  the  Fool.  Junie  McCree 
(whose  personality  is  as  interesting  as  Nat  C.  Good- 
win's), is  Vice  President.  Harry  O.  Hayes  is  Treas- 
urer, W.  W.  Waters,  Fraternal  Secretary.  Among 
the  directors  and  Trustees  are  Jim  the  Gipsy,  Sam 
Morton,  and  Mark  Murphy  of  the  original  eight 
Besides  there  is  that  Big  Little  Major  Doyle,  with 


l^auDetJille  197 

his  head  full  of  brains  and  his  heart  full  of  love, 
and  George  Delmore,  Walter  Le  Roy,  George  Felix, 
Tim  McMahon,  James  Harrigan,  Edwin  Keough, 
Colie  Lorella,  Will  J.  Cooke,  Frank  Herbert,  Rob- 
ert Dailey,  William  F.  Carroll  (Irish  Billy),  John 
P.  Hill,  Tim  Cronin,  the  politician;  William  Court- 
leigh,  Charles  Stine,  Frank  Fogarty,  Joe  Calahan, 
Jack  Gardiner,  Bert  Leslie,  William  Gould,  Charles 
B.  Lawlor,  Ren  Shields,  Frank  North,  Harry 
Knowles,  and  Corse  Payton. 

These  are  the  men  who  direct  the  movements  of 
The  White  Rats  of  America.  An  army  of  Art  and 
Heart  that  has  grown  to  be  several  thousand  strong. 
They  are  affiliated  with  all  the  other  Theatrical  or- 
ganizations of  the  world,  every  member  of  which  has 
now,  for  the  first  time  in  history.  Fraternal  and 
Legal  protection,  every  member  of  which  has  a  voice 
in  his  own  affairs.  They  are  financially  interested 
for  the  first  time  in  history  in  their  own  enterprises. 
They  will  one  day  own  themselves.  Then  they 
will  become  educated  and  be  brave  to  love  each 
other.  Among  them  are  My  Lady  Vaudeville's 
brightest  and  best,  the  people  who  rouse  the  rest 
of  the  world  to  its  laughter  and  its  tears.  The 
standard  of  their  entertainment  has  grown  brighter 
and  better.  Their  hearts  will  continue  to  soften 
into  a  finer  fellowship  as  the  years  go  by.  Their 
eyes  have  seen  the  light  of  their  wandering  star. 
They  have  been  awakened  and  led  from  the  dark 


'98 Q^y  JLaDp 

desert  of  doubt  whereon  they  wrangled  and  quar- 
relled, all  envious  and  jealous  of  each  other,  all 
striving  and  pulling  in  different  ways,  and  they  are 
now  marching  on,  marching  on,  marching  on,  to  the 
morrow's  golden  dawn.  The  mountains  have 
moved  away.  So  wish  them  Godspeed,  my  Little 
Gold  Lady,  for  surely  they  are  marching  on.  Wish 
them  Godspeed,  but  look  at  them  not  through  Man- 
twa's  eyes.  He  would  tell  you:  "They  are  only 
singed  moths  and  motley  mummers;  many  of  them 
scorched  by  the  toxic  tinctures  of  earth's  many  rial- 
tos  and  wide  white  ways." 

He  would  tell  you :  "It  is  all  a  mad  dance  in  the 
crazy  carnival  of  vanity  fair." 

He  would  show  you  the  miasma  of  their  environ- 
ment, and  the  impossibility  of  their  escape  into  the 
sunlight  of  to-morrow. 

And,  he  would  laugh  long  and  loud  at  your 
Dromio. 

So  look  at  them  not  through  Mantwa's  eyes. 

He  saw  only  the  husks  of  them.  He  saw  only 
their  scars. 

"Where  there  is  no  vision  the  people  perish," 
said  Solomon. 

So  look  at  them  not  through  Mantwa's  eyes,  but 
through  the  eyes  of  your  dreamful  Fool. 

Knights  of  the  Royal  Realm  he  called  them,  in 
his  ludicrous  verbiage,  for  ever  he  saw  them  with 
hopeful  eyes. 


l^autietJille  199 

So  bid  them  Godspeed,  my  Little  Gold  Lady,  for 
surely  they  are  marching  on. 

The  pipers  are  playing  their  magic  tunes; 
They  are  singing  the  songs  of  Brotherly  love. 
The  buglers  are  trumpeting,  trumpeting, 
The  clarions  are  calling,  calling. 

Into  their  ranks  from  all  earth's  climes  and  from 
all  walks  of  life,  come  the  starry  eyed  children  of 
smiles. 

They  are  marching  on  to  the  land  of  good 
thoughts  and  good  deeds,  where  actions  are  brave 
and  where  duties  are  well  performed. 

So  wish  them  Godspeed,  my  Little  Gold  Lady,  for 
the  Fool  in  his  heart  heard  the  song  of  the  Night- 
ingale, and  he  said  unto  them,  through  the  Spirit 
of  Starland,  "I  have  come  to  give  you  peace  and 
light;  I  have  come  to  make  you  free." 


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...portraits  of... 
(§f[utV3,  ©ritstrfs, 

^prrrtarij    nf   itri^rtorB, 
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lilntr   l^ats   nf  Amrrtra 


<pn  CaS°/3  cx  °^  f^'LS  c!^^>S/-?  '^RsSl^  '^^SJD  -^-fi/-^  ^°  J?  c?i."-l^  c^x'-L/^  ^v 

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Fred  Niblo, 

President. 


JuxiE  McCree, 

Vice-President. 


Harky  ().  IIayes^ 
Treasurer. 


Walter  W.  Watees, 

(Seltzer  Waters), 

Secretary. 


Stanley  Murphy, 
Trustee. 


Geo.  E.  Delmoke, 
Trustee. 


John  P.  Hill, 
Trustee. 


COLIE    LOEELLA^ 

Trustee. 


COKSE   PaYTO^  ,, 

Trustee. 


JorS.    CaLI.AJIAX 

Director. 


WlI.L    J.    COOKE^ 

Director. 


W: 


-M. 


C'oURTLEIGir,, 

Director. 


Tim  CROJfiN, 
Director. 


RoBT.  Dailet^ 
Director. 


Jas.  F.  Dolax, 
Director. 


Directoi 


Geo.  Felix, 
Director. 


Fk AX  K  Fog AKT y. 
Director. 


Jack  Gardner^ 
Director. 


WlI.LIAM    GOULD^ 

Director. 


Jamks  11  arrigax. 
Director. 


FuAXK  Hekeekt, 
Director. 


Edwin  Keough, 
Director. 


Chas.  B.  Lawlor^ 
Director. 


Walter  LeRoy, 
Director. 


Bekt  Leslie, 
Director. 


Tim  McMaiiox, 
Director. 


Sam  ]\Iokto>,., 
Director. 


Director. 


Fra:s'k  Xortii, 
Director. 


Rex  Shields, 
Director. 


Chas.  J.  Stii\"e, 
Director. 


EuBE  Welch, 
Director. 


Haery  Motjntfoed^ 
Secretary  to  Board  of  Directors, 


Dexkis  F.  O'Brien^ 
General  Counsel. 


COHAN    &    HARRIS 

ATTRACTIONS 


GEORGE  M.  COHAN,  "The  Yankee  Prince" 
"THE    AMERICAN    IDEA" 
VICTOR  MOORE,   "The  Talk  of  New  York" 

COHAN  6  HARRIS  MINSTRELS 
PresenHng    GEO.    EVANS   and    100    Honey   Boys 

••50    MILES   FROM    BOSTON" 

(Eastern) 

••FIFTY    MILES    FROM    BOSTON" 

(Western) 

THOMAS  F.  SHEA 
••BREWSTER'S    MILLION'S" 

With  ROBERT  OBER 

••45  MINUTES  FROM   BROADWAY" 

With    SCOTT    WELSH 

AND     OTHERS     IN     PREPARATION 


Address 

New  Amsterdam  Theatre  Building 
214  WEST  42d  STREET.  NEW  YORK 


W  ith  sincerest  regards 

and  admiration  for 

our  Founder. 


3vth  Ntblo 


Compliments 


JAS.  F.  ...of...  IDA 

DOLAN  &  LENHARR 


Be  hr2L\>e — and  love  each  other* — Golden, 

George  W.  Monroe 

As  the    Comedy  Queen  in  the 
**TOP  O'  THE   WORLD" 


Read  these  fe'w  hind  words  from  a  ievr  of  our 
greatest  critics: 

' '  Monroe  compels  mirth.  I  laughed  till  the  tears  rolled  down 
my  cheeks  and  I  felt  limp  and  foolish.  Monroe's  monologue 
broke  me  up  and  I  nearly  ran  out  of  the  theatre.  Geo.  W. 
Monroe  is  the  one  fat  gentleman  who  can  be  a  fat  lady  without 
offense," — Alan  Dale. 

*      *     * 

"George  W.  Monroe's  monologue  in  the  second  act  reduces 
you  to  a  jelly  of  laughter." — Ashton  Stevens. 

«     «     « 

"George  W.  Monroe  is  a  veritable  mountain  of  fun,  which 
every  Mahomet  in  town  will  go  gladly  to  see.  It's  almost  five 
years  now  since  the  Majestic  has  heard  such  shouts  of  laughter." 
— Acton  Davies. 

«     «     « 

"The  funniest  thing  in  the  performance  is  that  buxom  lady 
by  Geo.  W.  Monroe.  You  decide  he's  funny,  and  you  let  'er  go. 
McGuckin— wonderful  artist."— C^rtr/?5  Darnton, 


GEORGE  EVANS 

''The  Honey  Boy'^ 


Permanent  Jtiireu 

WHITE  RATS  CLUB 

S^,  Y.  CUy 


<6  ii  A  A  A  A  HA                        :ZA  A  A  AAA  A  ^ 

«^  fer 

*•  Z 

"  to 

'*  z 

•»  to 

2  to 

*«  to 

f  (Srfatrr  Mrw  fork  ffiirtwU         s» 

**  to 

«,  _4irrBratittg„                   i» 

«!  to 

*«  All    ^tar   HauiJfiitlb    to 

2  *^ 

*»  i» 

«(  Hit  A  JtJt  Hit ^=:  it  it  it  Jt  it  Ait  ^y 


Compliments  o! 


William  Morris,  Inc. 


Noiv  and  always,  the  First 
and  Foremost  Purveyor  of 
Polite  Entertainment  and 
Promoter  of  Vaudeville 
Advancement.       Ji     it      Ji 


New  Yoikt  1440  BroBiwtj 

Qiieaget  167  Deaii>oni  Stnel 

Lawkai  418  Stnnd 


**  Hands  yi cross   the   Sea 


cMan  to  man  th*  <a)orld  o* 
Shall  brothers  be,  for  a*  that 


9<^  ^c.^(Xc&oCe'. 


i<:t€^97,€^ 


Th"  Saftest  o*  tK  Family'' 


^'^ 


** Should  Auld  Acquaintance   be   Forgot?" 


ROYAL  ILLUSIONIST. 


U  HER  MAYESTY 
"hf  QUEEN'fSAXONIt 


THE  ORIGINATOR    OFT  WHAT    HE   DOES 

ANDTHE  INVENTOR.  OF  A  STYLE  WHICH 

SO  MANY  ARE.  TRYING  TO    IMITATE.. 

'^^MR   GOLDIN    HOLDS  THE    RECORDS 
OF  ROYAL  COMMAND  IN  ENGLAND 
PERMANENT  ADDRESS-WHITE  RATS  OF  AM. 

U.S.A^ 


•^ 


Vv  ith  sincere  regards 

and  appreciation  or 


V 


No  use  plugging 
melodramas  in  this 
book^  but  here^s  to 
the  success  oi  ^  ^ 
GEORGE  EVANS 
Honey  Boy  Minstrels 

Al  H.  Woods 


Compliments  qf-^  ^ 


^  jiiiiijiiijtit  =  ii  ii  A  ii  ii  it  it  ^ 

«l 
«l 
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«l 
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l» 
tar 
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tar 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 
tor 

2  New  York  I 

2  : 

«i  it  iiiiitiiii  it  =  iiji  A  it  A  a  it  i» 


Corse  Payton 


Brooklyn 


¥  * 

t  * 

t  * 

¥  H 

w  Compliments  of           tt 

ft  •#••*•*•*•                       i# 

t  % 

t  JakeWellsi 

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t  THEATRES       \ 

t  ^ 

t  * 

t  «* 


COOK'S    PLACE 

270=272  West  39th  Street, 
New  York  City 


Theatncat  Headquarters  of  America—the 
Largest  and  Best  Conducted  House  of  its  Kind 
in  the  World. 

Best  of  Food  and  Best  of  Service—Best  of 
Everything  Pertaining  to  the  General  Comfort 
of  the  Profession* 

FRANK  COOK,  Proprietor 


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HOTEL   RENSSELAER 

TROY,    IN.    Y, 


European  Plan. 

200  Rooms. 

$J.OO  and  upwards. 

Mostly  with  bath. 

Modeled  after  old  English  Inn. 

Court  yard  in  tile. 

An   Artistic    Triumph. 


John  McGlyn. 


H.  A.  McGrane. 


PETER    F.    DAILEY 


...Compliments  of... 

AVON  COMEDY  FOUR 


Wm.   Courtleigh 

^*-  in  the  sketch  -^ 

"Peaches" 


Addre.r.r  Lamb./'*  Club,  44th  Street 
New  York 

Eddie   Clark 

il     and  his    A 

Six  Winning  Widows 


BROADWAY'S   POPULAR 
MUSIC  PUBLISHER 


Chicago 
GRAND 
OPERA 
HOUSE 
BLDG. 

StJfl 


NEW  YORK 
Corner  Broadway  and  'thirty-ninth  Street 


THE  WORLD  FAMOUS 


Harry  Houdini 

The  oriRinal  Jail  Breaker 
and  Handcuff  King 

Originator  of  ilii;  ^ ' CliMlcnge 
Performance"  as  presented  by  himself 
Home  Address,  278  West  il3th  St.,  N.Y.Clty 


Compliments  of 

FRANK 
BUSH 


FINLAY   &  BURKE 

eSj      e^      e^        1  JTirli      e^      e^      e^ 

PROFESSIONAL 
ENTERTAINERS 

ROBERT  DAILEY 


COMEDIAN 


THATS    ALL 


'^GOOD  LUCK 

♦..and.,. 
GOOD    HEALTH 

GEORGE/' 

Joseph  Coyne 

R.    E.    GRAHAM 

The  (American  Original 

BARON   POPPOFF 

in 
THE  mERRY  WIDOW 


TRIUMPHANT    IN    ALL    CITIES! 

MONT  OOM  ER  Y 
AND  STONE  IN 

Charles    Dillingham's    Musical    Comedy    Sensation 

^he  RED  MILL 

By  Henry  Blossom  and  Victor  Herbert 

A  YEAR  IN  NEW  YORK  -  FIVE  MONTHS  IN  BOSTON  FOUR  MONTHS  IN  CHICAGO 
And  Welcomed  Back  to  Them  All 

The  Dervish  Whirlwind    The  Mythical  Monahan 


ONETTA- 

THE  ONLY  NOVELTY  ACT 

OF  ITS  KIND 
IN    VAUDEVILLE 


James  and  Lucia 
Cooper  &  Co. 

"  The  Life  Saver 


John   K.   Hawley 

Hebre'w  Comedian 


Tom  Brantford 

THE  HUMAN 
"BAND 


Richard  F.  Staley's  Vaudeville  Attractions 

Staley  6  Birbeck's  Musical  Blacksmiths 

With  CAS.  F.  STALEY  and  Company 

Staley's  Transformation  Company 

With  ANDREW  STALEY  and  Company 

Staley's  Nightmare 

With  a  cast  of  six  artists 
MANAGER'S   ADDRESS 

RICHARD     F.    STALEY 
P.    O.    Bin    O,    Idaho    Springs,    Colorado 


Frederick    RUSSELL 

...and... 

Lillian    HELD 

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Famous  Sayings  af 


Famous  People 


« 


Cut    it    oot 


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PETER    DONALD 


« 


The  Home  of  Good  Songs 
ALBERT  VON  TILZER 


THE  YORK  MUSIC  CO. 

1367  Broadway,  Cor.  37th  St.    NEW  YORK 


Bickjd  &  Watson 

under  management  of 

F.  ZIEGFELD,  Jr. 


CLIFF    BERZAC 

^*  Comedy  Circus  ^^ 


BILLIE 
FERN 


KNOCKABOUT 
COMEDIAN 


CC 


Volt  a 


yy 


Electrical 
Wizard 

Jiddress 

WHITE    RATS 


Compliments  of 


Harry  Von  Tilzer 


GOOD  LUCK  and 

BEST  WISHES  to 

George  Fuller  Golden 
JOSEPH  MURPHY 

...RETIRED... 

New  York  Film  Exchange 

WILL  C.  SMITH,  Manager 

Formerly  of  Diamond  &  Smith  (Song  Illustrators) 

"Everything  in  the  Moving  Picture  line" 

7  EAST  14th  STREET,  N.  Y. 

Moving  picture  entertainments  a  specialty  for  churches, 
societies,  schools  and  homes 

TELEPHONE  3T4.'>  STUYVESAJNT 
ESTABLISHED    18T9 

Wift  N^m  f  nrk  iramattr  iMtrrnr 

HARRISON  GREY  FI5KE,  Editor  &  Pres. 

PUBLISHED     WEEKLY,     PRICE     10     CENTS 

ALL  THE  NEWS  OF  THE  STAGE 

PUBLICATION  OFPICB 
lai    M'^KST    42d    street,  NE'W   YORK 


HOW    MUCH    ^RB    YOU    MAJSLlMCi  A.  WiJKK.? 

Suppose  you  meet  with  an  accident  ? 

Or  suppose  you  got  a  chronic  sickness  of  any  sort  ? 

How  long  would  your  income  continue  ? 

You  are  making  pretty  good  money,  now,  but  are  you  sureoi 
your  health  ?  Are  you  certain  you  will  never  meet  with 
any  kind  of  accident  ? 

George  Fuller  Golden  certainly  is  one  of  the  most  deserving 
fellows  in  the  world — many  a  time  has  he  cheered  us  up 
when  we  had  a  fit  of  "down-in-the- mouth" — dear  old  chap,  he 
is  worried  now.  If  he  was  sure  of  an  income  every  week  he 
certainly  would  be  more  at  ease.  YOU  can  protect  yourself 
against  loss  of  present  income— YOU  can  make  certain  of  your 
future  income.     The  method  is  easy,  effective,  economical. 

If  you  want  to  know  how — write  and  ask  me  to  explain. 

ALVA  E.  STERN,  66  Pine  Street.  New  York,  N.Y. 

RICE     &    BARTON 

...ENTERPRISES... 
Big  Gayety  Company 

Rose  Hill  English  Folly  Co. 

Always  the  Biggest  and  *Best 
Address,  CENTERPORT,  I.  I. 

GUS  HILL  ENTERPRISES 

GUS  HILL,  Owner 

CHAS.  a  BARTON,  Gen.  Mgr. 

1358  Broadway  New  York 

ORIGIN ALITY  means  SUCCESS-  That's  Me 

BILLY     BROAD 

The  Wandering  cMinstrel 
SINGING,  TALKING  AND  DANCING  COMEDIAN 

MATERIAL   NEW  AND    ORIGINAL 

Per.  Address,  WHITE  RATS  OF  AMEEUCA 


SEASON  1908-9 


<»--^>.®-'^'-^ 


-EDDIE  FOY- 


IN 


Mr.  Hamlet  of  Broadway 

Management 
JAKE  &  LEE  SHUBERT 

In    Vaudeville 

Wm.  H.  MAC  ART 

Management 
WESLEY  <S  PINCUS 

-EDDIE    GIRARD- 

AND 

JESSIE    GARDNER 

"Dooley   and    the   Diamond" 


PATSY  DOYLE 

Comedian  and  Dancer 


A    Laughing    Hit    in    One 


Address 
WHITE  RATS  OF  AflERICA 


One  Felix  and  Three  Bartys  Will  Beat 
c4ny  Tiuo  Pair 

4==FELIX  and  BARRY==4 

GEORGE   FELIX 

LYDIA    BARRY      -  -      EMILY    BARRY 

and    CLARA   BARRY 

*     ^     * 

The  Act  that  ghddens  the 

hearts  of  VaudMlle  patrons 


Mr.  James  Harrigan 

The  First     ^ 
Tramp  Juggler 


s.  P.  Q.  R. 

LAVEEN-CROSS&CO. 

Presenting  their  Second  Edition  of 

"Roman  Sports  and  Pastimes" 

(COPYRIGHTED) 

Assisted  by  Al  C.  Rio  and  Phil  Travers 
ORIGINATORS  PRODUCERS 


TOM 
HEARN 


*^*^*^ 


THE 

LAZY 

JUGGLER 


Paul  Cinquevalli 


Cable  Address  ;  "Avengment,  London." 

Telephone  No.  1919  Gerrard 

ANGER    6    BAUER 

...AGENTS    FOR... 

English,  American  and  Continental  Variety  Artists 

50    RUPERT    STREET,    W. 

English  and  Continental  Representatives  for  ¥  OMDON     ENG. 

Frank  E.  Fillis's  Enterprises  in  South  Africa  A^\Ji^^^i^t  i-i-^v.. 


an** 


7    minutes  walk  from  Coney  Island 

...is    situated... 

Brighton-by-the-Sea  " 

Beautiful  liome  sites  at  right  prices 

For  full  particulars,  address 

THE   VAUDEVILLE    INVESTORS   COMPANY 

ASTOR    THEATRE    BUILDING 

Tel.  JJg  I  Bryant  1531      BROADWAY 


THE  MORNING  TELEGRAPH 


SATISFYING  N1:WSPAPER 
Isn't  It? 


...THE  ORIGINAL... 

Willy  Pantzer&Co. 

The  Acme  of 

Sensational 

Acrobatic  Art 


CHAS.T.ALDRICH 


William 
Heras 

...of... 

Heras 

Family 


Joseph  Hart's  Attractions 

CLEVER    CARRIE    DE  MAR 

"FUTURITY  WINNER"  COMPANY,  England 

"FUTURITY  WINNER"  COMPANY,  Continent 

"RAIN-DEARS  •  COMPANY,  United  States 

"RAIN-DEARS"  COMPANY,  Europe 

"POLLY  PICKLES'  PETS"  COMPANY,  United  States 

"POLLY  PICKLES'  PETS"  COMPANY,  Europe 

"BATHING  GIRL'S"  COMPANY,  United  States 

tj3*    t^^   <^^ 

New   York  Offices: 

Koom    12,    NEW    YORK    THEATRE    BUILDING 

London   Offices: 

150    OXFORD    STREET 


¥ 

¥ 
¥ 
¥ 


jC-R-R-R  COMPLIMENTS  OF  *tltltij^ 


FOUR     ^ 

MORTONS 

a  a  »  e  13  a  »  a  o  a  a  a 


SAM 
KATE 


CLARA 
PAUL 


Ik 


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BILLIE    REEVES 


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Compliments  of 

^  *  ^ 


BOB  MURPHY 


^      ^      ^ 


Hotel  Albany 


..The  American  Character  Actor.. 

Joseph  Callahan 

Originator  of  Great  Men  Past 
and   Present 

The  First  cAdor  to  Present  a.  Dressing  Room 
**  cMake-up**  and  Costuming  Characters 
in  vie'w  of  Audience* 

Noiv  Starring  as  De'bil  in  the  Henry  W,  Savage 
Version  **  The  "Devil/' 


Management   JAMES   D.  BARTON 


THE  GREAT  CAICEDO 

KlXCi    OF    THE    'WIRE 
THE  ONLY  AND  ORIGINAL  KINQ  OP  THE  WIRE 


Inventor  of  the 
bounding  wire.  An 
A(ft  introduced  at 
Madison  Square 
Gcirden  in  1 883. 
Since  then  he  has 
played  all  the  lead- 
ing vaudeville  thea- 
tres in  America  as  a 
headliner ;  also  all 
over  Europe,  India, 
eind  Australia. 


Appeared  by 
special  request  be- 
fore His  Majesty 
King  Edward  of 
Great  Britain.  Cai- 
cedo  performs  with 
BOOTS,  high 
heels  and  spurs, 
with  and  Xoithout 
balancing  poles  his 
daring  and  unique 
feats. 


Permanent  Address  in  America,  c-o  New  York  Clipper 
Permanent  Address  in  London,  England,  c-o  The  Era 


MORRISaMORRIS. 


FVN  ON  A  BROOM  HANDLE 


Herbert 
Lloyd 


'KING  OF 

DIAMONDS' 

White  Rats  of  America 


THAT  GREEN 
PAPER 


You  kpow  it 
by  the  Color 

OUT  SATURDAYS 

M.  A.  SHEA 

FRANK  FINNEY 

AUTHOR    OF 

SEVERAL   THINGS 


NAT    M.    WILLS 

^'The  Happy  Tramps' 


RICE    &    PREVOST 

-ca— IN  — «X 

^'Bumpty  Bumps  ^' 


% 


GXJS      EDWARDS 

is  open  at  all  times  to  write  for  you 
anything  from  a  comic  opera  to  a  comic 
song 

GXJS      EDWARDS 

is  open  to  manage  you  in  vaudeville  or 
production.  Have  a  talk  with  him. 
You  might  find  that  long  looked  for 
opportunity 

at 

"The  House  of  School  Days" 

Gus  Edwards  Music  Publishing  Company 

1512  Broadway,  New  York  City 


White  Rat 

Charles  J.  Butler 

..Artist  in.. 
Oils  and  Water  Colors 

Illuminated  "Addresses" 
engrossed    on    Vellum 

Original  designs  for  "Lithos" 
and  Letterheads 

See  "Spirit  of  Starland" 

and  "Magic  Wonders" 

Address 

White  Rats 

NEW   YORK 


MISS  G.  LANG 


CHAS.JACKLIN 

In  the  "Dumb  Girl" 


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Principal  Comedians 
TOPO'TH'WORLDCO." 

Bailey  &  Austin 

rianagementof 
J.    n.    ALLISON 
25  Leroy  Street,  N.  Y.  City 


EDWIH  KEOUGH 


<^'  ^  '\\i>f 


BARTON 

AND 

ASHLEY 

Presenting  in  Europe 

**Adani  the  Second" 

By  Will  M.  Cressy 

««« 

Played   in   America   by 
MATHEWS  &  HARRIS 


DeBIERE 

THE    MYSTERIOUS 


iK     aK     aK     «S^ 


CREATOR    OF... 

...MODERN    MAGIC 


It  isnt 

'what  they 

do. 

It  is  the 

'way  they 

do  it* 


International 
Favorites. 


John  W.  WORLD  &  KINGSTON  linden 


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Compliments  of 


Sam  Sidman 


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g>  it  JtA  A  A  A  A^=r— ^  A  A  A  A  AA  A^ 


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fr/(Cf?ze 


A  New  Sensation 

in  Hypnotic 

Suggestion 

"Pauline  is 

not  a  Lady  ? ' ' 


It 
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ROBERT      'Uhe  Originator  of  the 
HILLIARD  Serious  Play  in  Vaudeville 


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The  HOTEL  BAYARD,  at  142  West  49th 
Street,  New  York,  has  become  the  favorite 
house  of  a  select  cHentele.  There  is  an  air  of 
comfort  and  hospitaHty  about  it  that  appeals 
to  discriminating  people.  It  is  a  home  as  well 
as  a  tarrying  place  for  the  visitor  for  a  day  or 
a  week.  Close  to  Broadway,  at  the  upper  end 
of  Times  Square,  it  is  convenient  to  every- 
thing. Most  of  the  Theatres  are  within  five 
minutes  of  the  house.  The  rooms  are  all  large 
and  light.  The  prices  are  very  reasonable, 
from  one  dollar  a  day  to  five.  You  would 
agree  with  us  that  we  give  the  best  values  in 
New  York. 

M.  F.  MEEHAN,  Proprietor. 


I  am  a  small  publisher^  therefore 
will  take  a  small  ad* 

Harry  Cooper  Publishing  Co. 

120  WEST  41st  STREET 
KEW  YORK 

Harvey  i    ..Hebrew.. 
&     Lea       Comedians 


Moonlight   in    the 
Orange  Grove 

««« 

.  "POLHE  , 

,  mUSICAL  , 

ENTERTAINERS 

DaVey^Everson 


Mr.  &  Mrs.  Robyns 

PRESENTING 

A  Select  Repertoire  of  One-Ad 

Plays,  in  Vaudeville 


The   FIRST,  the   REAL,  the   ORIGINAL  Comedian-Pianist 
WILL    H.     FOX 

The  STARTER  of  ALL  TRICK=PLAYINQ  Piano  Acts 

(ESTABLISHED  1888) 

WILL    H.    FOX 

Famous  in  the  Footlight  W^orld  for  HIS  PaderewskI  Satire 
"PADDYWHISKI" 

Playing  the  Leading  Halls  of  Europe  and  America 
A  Success  Through  Force  of  Merit  as  an  Artiste 

WILL    H.    FOX 

THE  MAN  WITH  MANY  IMITATORS 

Compliments  of 

PAT    ROONEY 

AND 

MARION  BENT 

THE  BUSY  BELL-BOY 

WILLY  ZIMMERMAN 

c/l  Friend  of 
GEORGE  FULLER  GOLDEN 


ROBT.   HENRY   HODQE  &  CO. 

PRESENTING 

"Troubles  of  Bill  Blithers,  Bachelor" 

IN  CONSTRUCTION 

"HIS    NIGHT    OFF" 
•«A  SUIT  FOR  BREACH  OF  PROMISE" 

ALL   GOOD    ACTS    AND    A  Per.  Address,  PORT  RICHMOND 

aOOD  ACTOR  TO  DO  THEM  ft.  L»  New  York 


HAL  DAVIS  6  INEZ  MACAULEY 

1»KKSI:NT    IX    VAl'I)l-]VII.I.K 
The  Follow'ing  High=Ciass  Comedy  Sketches 


THE    UNEXPECTED 

Dy  Kdiiiund  Day 

The  Sensational  Comedy  Production 

PALS 

By  Edmund  Day 
The  Military  Comedy  Sketch 

THE  FALL  OF  64 

By  Arthur  M.  Stace 

o4ll   Communicaiions 

PERHANENT  ADDRESS 
CHKSA.NINC;.  MICHIGAN 


ONE    CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

By  Will  M.  Crcssy 

The  Big  Automobile  Racing  Sensation 

A  RACE  FOR  A  WIFE 

]'.y  Arthur  M.  btacc 
In  Preparation 

THE  YELLOW  SCOOP 

Bv  OllivLT  White 
to   HAL   T>AVIS 


GEO.  E.  DELMORE 

A  X  D 

JULES  W.  LEE 


America's  Foremost  Athletes 

c=o   WHITE    RATS 

New   York 


BILLY  ^URKE 

responsible  for 


a 


arence 


Wilh 


ur 


id  hi 


lO-FUNNY  FOLKS-/ 0 


in 


...Vaudeville. 


JOE    SHEA 

Represents  35  of  Vaudeville's  Headliners 
Books  and  is  interested  in 

BURTIS  OPERA  HOUSE,  Auburn,  N.  Y. 

RICHMOND  THEATRE,  No.  Adams,  Mass. 

FAMILY  THEATRE,  Gloversville,  N.  Y. 
KEENEY'S  THEATRE,  New  Britain,  Conn. 
FAMILY  THEATRE,  Orange,  N.  J. 

PARK  THEATRE,  Asbury  Park,  N.  J. 
AND      MORE      ft  r^rkKi 


FINLAY  &  BURKE 


^  c«  THE  *<  ^ 
PROFESSIONAL 
ENTERTAINERS 


ROBERT  DAILEY 


COMEDIAN 


THArS  ALL 


"GOOD    LUCK 

***ana*** 
GOOD  HEALTH 

GEORGE" 

Joseph  Coyne 

R.    E.    GRAHAM 

The  c4merican  Origina.1 

BARON   POPPOFF 

in 
THE  mERRY  WIDOW 


1 


Professional  Cards 

"^^  — 


Eugene  Stratton 

NEIL  KENYON 

In  Scottish  Character  Studies 

GEORGE  MOZART 

The  Funny  Englishman 
The  Famous  KELLINOS 

PREMIER  RISLEY  ACT  OF  THE  WORLD 

Seeley  &  Rhodesia 

COMEDY  AND  NOVELTY  ENTERTAINERS 

George    D' Albert 

Vocal  Comedian 

ARTHUR  REECE 

A  Smite  in  a  Dress  Suit 

CLIFF  RYLAND 
''Himself' 

DUSTY  RHODES 

Comedian 

Donaldson  Bros. 

Sports  in  a  Jungle 


Griffiths  Brothers 

The  Original  Eccentrics 

^OE  O'GORMAN 
Stelling  &  Revel 

Grotesque  Gymnasts 

WAL  PINK 

"BROS.  EGBERT 

The  Happy   Dustmen 

Wilson  Hallett 

ENGLAND'S  IMPERSONATOR 
OP  CHILDREN 

U  L.  GRANVILLE 

Character  Impersonator 


Howard  &  St.  Clair 

louring  England 


BARNEY   ARMSTRONG 

* '  Something's  gone  wrong 
with  my  band  parts" 


FRED  RUSSELL 

The  ofigfinal  one  figftJfe 
ventriloquist 


Jiddress  for  all  the  above 
VAUDEVILLE    CLUB.    LONDON,    ENGLAND 


Joe  Elvin 

''King  of  the  Castle' 

Fred    Kitchen 

The  Bailiff 

GEORGE  LEYTON 

London^s  Ador  Vocalist 

Norman  &  Leonard 
...Trio... 

Burt  Shepard 

At  the  Ptano 

FRED  GINNETT 
Dick  Turpin 

Duncan  &  Godfrey 

''Me  and  Her'' 

W.    H.    Clemart 

The  Ventriloquist 

THE    CRAGGS 
In  "Billy" 

George  Gilbey 

"Spoaty  " 

HARRY  TATE 

Motoring    &    Fishing 

WILL  S'OHNSON 
Comedian 

BELLA     &    BIJOU 

Society  Entertainers 

Sanford  &  Lyons 

Simultaneous  Dancers 

Alfred  Martinetti 

''A  Terrible  Nighe' 

Alexandre^  Hughes 

ENGLAND'S  REPRESENTATIVE 
MUSICAL  COMEDIANS 

Alf  Chester 

Comedian 

THE    MAPLES 

[AMY  &  FRED] 

Comedy   c4rtists 

mORNY    CASH 

The  Lancashire  Lad 

Dave  OToole 

Comedian 

Address  for 
VAUDEVILLE    CLU^. 


all  the  above 
LONDON,    ENQLANT> 


Todof  Edward  J. 

Cameron  &  Flanagan 
WM.   CAHILL 


ADAMS    and    KIRK 

Premier     America 
XYLOPHONE  ^iULOISTS 

c-o  White  Rats  of  America-N.Y.  City 


HARRY  /OLSON 

The  Original  Dimple  Sisters 
Dick  and  Barney  Ferguson 

ECCENTRIC  COMEDIANS  AND  DANCERS 

FRED  PRIMROSE 
Phil.W.=PETERS=Nettie 

Address 
White  Rats  of  America 

BILL  HANLON 

DeVELDE&ZELDA 

Artistic  Equilibrists 

SMITH  &  BURNS 

(CAFE) 


Mr.    WM.    F.    HEELEY 

[From  CHICAGO] 
HEELEY  &  MEEI.EY 
Two  Lucky  Tramps 

THE  GAGNOUX 


RAE  &  BROSCHE 

Alivays  Make  Good 

The  Man  With  The  Goods 

HARRY   THOMSON 

Original  "  MAYOR  of  the  Bowery" 
CHARACTER  DIALECTICIAN 

TRACEY&CARTER 

Comedy  Aerial  Act 

FROBLE  &  RUGE 

Past  Five  Years  Appearing 
Principal  Theatres  of  Europe 

SHAMES  McDUFF 
Dolph  and  Susie  Levino 

WEST  HAVEN,  CONN. 
U.  S.  A. 

SID  GRAUMAN 


HARRY  ZEDA 


Voujere  &  Franconi 

Comedians  and  Singers 

White    Rats,    New    York 

PHILIP  APEL 

t^Charader  Comedian.* 


MARION 
VICTORIA 


MURRAY 

Direction  of  QIQ'T'FRQ 

AL  SUTHERLAND   »31»^  A  tilxO 

RAY    COX 

'* Dixie  Girl'' 

Eugene  Ellsworth 

in  Vaudeville 

c-o  White  Rats  of  America 

Charles  Horwitz 

Author  of  Plays,Sketches,Songs,Sc. 

KNICKERBOCKER    THEATRE    BUILDING 
Room  315,  1402  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Jack  SYMONDS 

"man  of  Ease" 

SHARP  BROS. 

White  Rats 

THE   KOPPES 

Comedy  Jugglers 

BOWEN    BROS. 

College  Boys^ 
Singers  and  Dancers 


Best  Wishes 
Bob  Cunningham 

White  Rats  of  America 

LARRY  SMITH 

and 

MAMIE  CHAMPION 

Compliments  of 

Clifford  and  Burke 

BEST  WISHES 

T.CAMERON 

(Nellie) 

LUCKIE  &  YOAST 

Knight  Bros,  and 
Sawtelle 

HERBERT'S  DOGS 
Wyoming,  DeU 

The  man  with  a  thousand  songi 

William  Dillon 

BILL  HANLON'S 

Theatrical  Headquarters 

SACREMENTO,  CAL 

JOE    BIRNES 

Singing  Comedian 

White  Rats  of  Americin 


Frank  J*  Conroy 

...and*** 

George  LeMaire 

Presenting 
KING  FOR  A  NIGHT 

Harry  Deaves  &  Co. 

present  their 

Dramatic  Manikins 

in  scenes  from 
"UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN" 

THE 

Mike  J.KELLYS  Alma 

COMEDIAN  and 
SOUBRETTE 

IN  VAUDVILLE 

DIf 'K  J.  HUNTEK 

Fitzgerald  j  Wilson 

CONSISTENT 
COMEDIANS 

1877  --  LIKE   GOOD  WINE  -  1908 

Olympia  Quartet 

HUGH  MACK       M.  J.  SULLIVAN 
Still  a  big  hit  in  Vaudeville 

Independent  .       Amateur 

Cadets  ^"°        Minstrek 

Address   HUGH    HACK 

c-o  WHITE  RATS 


MARZELLA 

Queen  of  the 

Feathered  World 

JKAJKA 

Wonderfully  Educated 

Parrots,  Cockatoos, 

Pigeons,  Macaws, 

and     Giant 

Ravens 

The  biggest  and  most  original 

act  of  its  kind  in  existence 

Have  played  all   the  leading 

theatres  over  the  world 

Permanent  address 

CLIPPER,  New  York  City 

Wm.==Frank 

The  Two  Graces 


Polite  Comedy 
JOE  EDMONDS 

*'TheHowDeDoMan'* 

Fred  Nolan 

Versatile  Comedian 

Joe,  Myra,  &  Buster 

KEATON 


"Happy" 
Jack    Gardner 

Just  an  Entertainer 

Chas.  O.  Fred.  M. 

RICE   &  CADY 

German  Comedians 

Gray  &  Graham 

Musical  Bell  Boy 
♦  ♦  ♦  and  *  ♦  # 
military  maid 

Paul  Stephens 

Phenomenal  unsupported 

pole  climber  and  balancer 

Unexcelled  Novelty 

Per.  Address 
340  W.  27th  St.,       N.  Y.  City 

McMafaon&Chappelle 

and  tlieir 

Pullman  Porter  Maids 

Trip  De  Luxe  through 
Laughland 


Compliments 

***of*** 

DENNIS  KO'BRIEN 

GEO.  B.  RENO'S 
Comedians 

Touring  Europe 

THE    FINNEYS 

James  and  E'sie 

Champion    szuimmers 
of  the  'world 

Address  c-o  Clipper,  London, 
Eng. 

George  E.  Murphy 
Walt  E.Whitman 
and    Company 

Presenting  the  *Best 
in  Vaudeville  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦ 

EVERHARDT 

Christopher 
Columbus 
^  of  J^ 
HOOPS 


HIBBERT  & 

WARREN 

The  Funny  Dancer 

***and*** 
The  Piano  Player 

BLOCKSOM  &  BURNS 

Originators  of 

Burlesque  Equilibrism 

With  the  invisible  wire 

FRED  ALBERT 

Ferrell  Bros. 

The  Smartest  of 

Comedy  Cyclists 

Cunningham 
and  D^Ivry 

Eccentric  Comedy 
Sketch  Artists    ^ 

Milt  Wood 

The  T>ancer  ivith 
the  Chair 

Touring  in  ^auddbille 


Herbert  Brenon 
Helen  Downing 

In  Vaude'bille 
THE 

PELOTS 

^     Odd  and     4 
Humorous  Jugglers 

RALPH  POST 

..and,. 
ED    RUSSELL 

Management-Schuberts 

GHAS.  B.  GUSSie 

Carter,  Taylor  &  Co. 

Presenting 
"Who's  Your  Friend" 

"  Those  'Were  the  happy 
days  " 

Howard  &  North 

A  NEW  EDITION 

Back  in  Wellington 


6==MusicaI  Cuttys==6 

*' Americans  Foremost 
cMusicat  Family*' 

Per.  Address 

3034  EAST  BALTIMORE  STREET 

Baltimore,  Md.        William  Cutty, Mgr, 

The  Famous 

T>ELNO  TROUPE 

Aerial  Bar  Artists 

Per.  address,  c-o  The  Chalfant, 
Indianapolis,  Ind. 

AL.    JOLSON 

HEAVILY 
^th 

Lew  Dockstader's 

Minstrels 

William  Rock 

and 

Maude  Fulton 

Management 

C  B.  Dillingham 
The   LAWLORS 

Mabel  -  Charles  B.  =  Alice 

In 
An  Original  Vocal  Character 

Sketchf  entitled 
"  NIGHT  AND  DAY  ON  THE 
SIDEWALKS  OF  NEW  YORK  " 


The  Sensation  of  all  Europe 

Wizard  STONE 

AND 

His  Globe  of  Death 

Address 

Weiland,  16  St.  Martins  St. 

London 

TORCAT 

Presenting 

His  Educated 
Game  Roosters 

Wally  and        '^^1^1^'' 
Lottie  Helston 

Singling,  Dancing, 

Acrobatic  Comedy  Pair 

New  Act  by  BERT  HOWARD 

Permanent  address 
White  Rats 

Oh  Look  Who's  Here 

Harry   Marks  Stewart 

The  Original  Hebrew 

Comedian 

ALWAYS  SOMETHING  NEW 

165  Schaeffer  Street 
Brooklyn.  -  -  N,  Y. 

Morton  &  Elliott 
16  Years  Together 

One  Long  c/l 

Unbroken      Novelty 
Spell  of      on  any 
Success   Programme 


The  Radium  Lights 

of  Vaudeville 

BILLY  "Swede "  HALL 
and  JENNIE  COLBORN 

in  an  Artistic  Character  Playlet 
"The  Swede  and 

the  Happy  Girl " 


ROSS 


and 
FENTON 


ZARNES 

Novelty 

Gymnasts 

JOHN  SLAVIN 


Different  from  All  Others 


Hany 


Stewart     AComrdy 


Act  in  One 

Time  16  Mtfinte  Desmond 
&  Co. 


to  18 

Minutes 

In  "COHEN  THE  COP' 

By  Skarl  Ali.en 

Wo  carry  our  The  exterior  of  a 

own  Drop  police  station 


Mattie   Keene 

THE 

ELLA  WHEELER  WILCOX 

"Comedienne" 

J.  H.  PHILLIPS,  Manager 

DONAT  BEDIM 

ivtth  his  acrobatic 
partners 
JIM  and  JAM 
In  Vaudeville 

Compliments  of 
JOSEPH  CARROLL 

and 
WILL    3".    COOKE 


J.  K.  Hutchinson 

Vaudevilling 


Geo.    P.   Murphy 

^..German 

Comedian*,* 


TO  THE  THEATRICAL  PROFESSION 

MANAGERS  and  WHITE  RATS  of  AMERICA 
There  is  BUT  O^E 

SEVENGALA 

[Not  SVINOALI  or  SVENGALI] 
Aadmy  act,  transmission  by  telepathy, 
fa  fully  proiecied  by  Copyright  Laius. 
All  persons  infringing  upon  above  title 
<ARE  IMPOSTERS  —  "  NUFF  SED  " 
WALTER  C.  MACK 
c-o  White  Rats  of  America 


PETE 


Mack, 


special  Scenery 
electrical  Effects 


EUGENIE 

"Grit's  Thanksgiving"  Oj  /^ 
By  Fred  J.  Beaman     O^  V-rfO* 

Best  Wishes  from 

Jack  Kloville 

*'ThatFatPropertyBoy" 

t*t  IN  tjft 

"THE  NIGHTINGALE" 

Care  of  V\  HITE  RATS 

Edwards,  Keller 

Vaudeville  Agency 

(Inc.) 

ST.    JAMES    BUILDING 

Bnadway  &  26th  Street 

NEW  YORK 

Qustav  Mayer 

President 

Qerman   Dail^    Qazette 

Publishing  Co. 

PHILADELPHIA,    PA. 


H.  B.  Marinelli,  Ltd. 

The  World's  Agency 


New  York 

London 


Paris 


Berlin 


WESLEY   and 
PINCUS 

Vaudeville    Agents 

Collins 
&  Brown 

German 
Comedians 

THEATRICAL 
SCENERY 

*' Painted  by  Artists 
That's  the  Difference" 

Daniels  Scenic  Studios 

CHICAGO 

Jack  Mason 

Producer  and 
General  Stage  Director 

Per.  Address 
WHITE    RATS 


The  Originators  of  the 
Bounding  Billiard  Table 

Kelly  &  Ashby 

Address  White  Rats 

JUNIE 
McCREE 


Irvin    R.    Walton 

121  WEST  42d  STREET 

c-o  MIRROR 

GIRDELLAR'S 

Comedy  AcrobattcDogs 
Billy    S.    Newton 

Dancing  Comedian 
White  Rats 

"BOB    RICHMOND 

(A  New  York  Clufa  Man) 

Harry  C.Stanley&Co. 

in  the  nofbet  and 
refined  comedy  sketch 

"Before  the  Overture" 

Address  White  Rats 


Alexander  Sevan's 

PRO  DUCTIONS 

IN  VAUDEVILLE 

The  Romany  Opera  Co. 

AND 

The  Zingari  Singers 

Ettore  Campana 

Principal  Baritone 
Romany  Opera  Co. 

Alfred  E.  Aarons 

OFFERS 

Maurice  Levi 

and  his  POPULAR  BAND 

SEASON  1908-9 


DICK  LYNCH 

'  'A  Iso  from  Michigan ' ' 

Best  Wishes 
ALF  GRANT 


ZINELL  and  BOUTELLE 

io  their  MUSICAL  COMEDY 
23T  MILES  TO  NE\V  VOKK 

16  min.  in  one  Carry  O'wn  scenery 


^EN  SHIELDS 

BYRON   and 
BLANCHE 

HORTON 

and 
LA  TRISKA 

RINALDO 


SHAMES  T.  LEE 

MAX  REYNOLDS 
in  'Vaudeville 

Yours  in  Fun 

Harry  Corson  Clarke 

VENMAN  mALEY 
«*•  Comedian  ••♦ 

SAONA 

Judge  for  Yourself 


Alf.  Holt 

The  Rapid-Fire  Mimic 

Third  Season— StoU  Toot 

FRANK  TOM 

TIERNEY&  ODELL 

**1h&  Bar nstof mer s  ** 

White  Rats  of  America 

Frank  LATONA  Jen 

-=^  in  '■%> 
cMusic  and  Comed:^ 

JAMES  H.  CULLEN 
The  man  from 
the  West     /> 

MOONEY  &  HOLBEIN 

England's  Premiers 

Ellis  Mona 

BLAMPHIN    &    HEHR 

James  Marguerite 

COLE  &  CLEMENS 

Comedy  Sketch  Artists 
rir.  and  firs. 

HOWARD  TRUESDELL 

High  Class  Comedy  Sketches 

MURPHY   and 
WILLARD 

*Best  Wishes 
TIM  CRONm 


AL  Larson        ^°Sn! 
&  Frances  Namon 

A  Success        _  Comedy  Cycling 
the  World  Over  ~  &  Ball  Punching 

The  Incomparable  Conjuror 
LEIPSIC 

Stoll  Tour  Orpheum 


England 


June  8 


Australia's  Representative 
Musical  Act 

THE   LESLIE   BR05. 

Stoll  Tour.  England 

maxRitterS     |°S 

/!L.-.^^  77^o^-->«  Eccentric  Dancers 
UraCe  roster     and  comedians 

Alf.  T.  Wilton         Somers  i3  Warner 
A  Stitch  in  Time  Gathers  No  Moss 

John  &  Dick  Mack 

Address  Eccentric 

Vaudeville  Club  Comedians 

London 

SOMERS    &    WARNER 
VARIETY    AGENCY 

Oxford  Music  Hall  BIdg.  LONDON 

The  International  Rendezvour 

The  German  Club 

41  Lisle  Street,  London 

I.  A.  L.  Meeting  Every  Sunday  7.30 


Sam  Elton 


Queen  of  All  Educated   Horses 

Princess  Trixie 

W.  Harrison  Barnks.     OWNER 


THE    ORIGINAL 

Joe  J.  Sullivan 

Irish  Comedian 

ALBENE  and  LA  BRANT 

Comedy  Second=Si^ht 

Address  White  Rats 

Glenroy  &  Russell 

Melnotte,   Lanole 
Duo 

AL  G.  Flourney 

Beauvais,  Maridor  &  Co. 

In  the  Novel  Comedy  Dramatic  Sketch 
"THE  WILDFLOWER" 

Copyright  Class  D.  XX C.  No.  7202 
Per.  Address:  By  Aaron  Hoffman 
c-oVIctor  House,274  Indiana  St  .Chlcago.lll. 

Welt  Anyway, 

Bobby  GAYLOR 

l^ho  is 

Tommy  McALEER'S 

UNCLE  MIKE 

and  is  noiv  retiring 

cAdlibitum 

t4t  -  Button  -  t4t 


...Professional  Hotels... 
t^    and    Cafes    j^ 


Churchill's 

46th  ST.  &  BROADWAY 

The  Official 

Restaurant  for 
the  White  Rats 

George  Davis 

EIGHTH      and 
RACE  STREETS 

PHILADELPHIA,    PA. 

Ashland  Hotel 

SEVENTH  and  RACE 
STREETS 

PHII^ADELPHIA,    PA.. 

DAD  FRAZER,  Proprietor 

TELLER^ 

WHITE  RAT  HOTEL 

PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

BREAKFAST  712     DINNER     5-7 

LUNCH     -    -12  2     SUPPER  11  12 

RtFERENCE-PROFESSION 

Ebi.,l)lishcd  1S71 

RATES;    $8  double,  $9  single 

Breakfast  served  in  rooms  without 

extra  charge 
Sti'am  Heat  Electric  Lights 

The  McDonald  Hotel 

Biiv^hamton,      -     -     -     N.  Y. 

Headquarters  of  White  Rats  and 
all  Theatrical  People 

Anwricnn  Plan 
."FH  sinKle— $7  double  pe  rwock 


Ehrich  House 

Carl  Ehrich,  Prop. 

227-229   West   38th  Street 

Ne>v   York 
PROFESSSON&L  BOARDING  HOUSE 

Karlaragns 
Theatrical  Hotel 

CATERING  ENTIRELY    Headquarters   for 
TO  THE  PROFESSION  White  Rats  of  Amer. 

204  &  206  Franklin  St. 

PHILADELPHIA,     PA. 

WALTER  J.  TALBOT  White  Rats  meeiing 
WILMOTT  WILLIAMS   e'hery  Thar,  e^eg 

The  Alert  Cafe 

J  934  Fillmore  Street 
San  Francisco,  Cal. 


Newly  Furnished    Hot  &  Cold  Baths 
Special  Rates  to  Professional  Peopla 

GALAX   HOTEL 

.  .  Corner  Riverside  and  Bernard  .  . 
Spokane        -        -  Wash. 


HOTEL    PERRIN 

161-163-165  Washington  Street 

Providence.  K.  L 

Amerlcjn  Plan,  $2.00  Per  Day 

Special  Rates  to  the  Profession 


Eugene  Goossens,  at  46,  is  the  musi- 
cal mainspring  of  Cincinnati  and  its 
famous  May  Festivals.  Among  the 
truly  sophisticated  of  living  conduc- 
tors, this  British-born  scion  of  a  dis- 
tinguished musical  family  has  long 
been  an  important  figure  on  the  Amer- 
ican musical  scene.  Unyielding,  re- 
served, taciturn  on  the  podium,  his 
manner  belies  his  inner  feeling  and 
warmth.  Master  of  the  art  of  under- 
statement, he  is  nevertheless  cosmo- 
politan in  approach.  Sounds  from  his 
orchestra  never  fall  on  the  ear  with  the 
effect  of  that  spontaneous  and  wild 
order  that  reigns  in  nature,  but  rather 
with  the  considered  and  accomplished 
effect  of  a  Carlyle  essay.  His  orchestra 
men,    and   other  friends,    adore    him. 


SK. 


'/' 


tt^^aeat 


Karl  Krueger,  in  his  forties,  returned 
to  his  native  state  after  intensive  study 
and  conducting  in  Vienna,  to  give 
Kansas  City  its  first  successful  orches- 
tra. Beginning  at  the  depth  of  the  de- 
pression, he  whipped  a  ragged  orches- 
tra into  shape  and  developed  it  to  its 
present  estate.  Thorough  and  sincere, 
with  an  appreciation  of  melos  and  all 
that  it  implies,  his  interpretations  have 
the  quality  of  indisputable  logic  and 
at  the  same  time  afford  release  from 
the  thralldom  of  method.  He  is  open- 
ing up  a  new  musical  richness  to  the 
Middle  West.  "For  us,"  says  William 
Allen  White,  "his  orchestra  stands  as  a 
monument  to  appreciation  of  music  in 
this  prairie  region.  It  is  our  orchestra." 


SCHAAL  FROM  FIX 


Z^t 


Bruno  Walter,  63,  enormously  enhanced  his  reputation  among 
younger  American  music-lovers  through  his  guest  conductorship  of 
the  NBC  Symphony,  which  ended  last  April  8th.  Gentle  and  sensi- 
tive, Mr.  Walter  is  one  of  the  conductors  whom  an  orchestra  does 
not  obey,  but  to  whom  it  responds.  At  his  best,  he  is  a  leader  of 
infinite  tenderness,  full  of  feeling.  Occasionally  he  exaggerates  and 
becomes  sentimental.  In  earlier  visits,  when  he  was  among  those 
estimable  gentlemen  of  the  New  York  Philharmonic-Symphony, 
who  thought  themselves  worthy  of  greatest  consideration  (at  least 
a  Toscanini)  and  worked  against  rather  than  with  him,  he  did  not 
secure  good  results.  His  musicianship  and  knowledge  are  indis- 
putable and,  when  his  flair  for  exhibitionism  docs  not  overcome 
him,  he  brings  a  unique  quality  to  his  music.  "Real  music,"  he 
says,  "has  a  life  of  its  own,  and  an  interpreter  can  only  develop  it." 


t^et/zend/ce 


Artur  Rodzinski,  45,  has  scored  signal  success  wherever  he  has  con- 
ducted. Trained  to  be  a  lawyer,  he  deserted  for  music.  Discovered 
directing  a  performance  of  Die  Meisler singer  in  Warsaw,  he  was 
brought  to  Philadelphia  by  Leopold  Stokowski.  Since  then  he  has 
conducted  the  Los  Angeles,  Cleveland,  New  York  Philharmonic- 
Symphony,  and  NBC  orchestras.  He  introduced  to  New  York 
Shostakovich's  Fifth  Symphony  and  Lady  Macbeth  of  Alzensk,  and 
centered  attention  on  Rosa  Pauly  and  Strauss's  Elektra.  Always  a 
thorough  worker,  he  is  master  of  every  detail,  a  first-class  drill 
sergeant.  Moreover,  he  infuses  orchestras  with  excitement  and  en- 
thusiasm and  brings  forth  a  wealth  of  tonal  splendor.  He  has  be- 
come noted  for  his  intelligent  and  sympathetic  conducting  of  mod- 
ern works.  Gadgets  of  all  kinds  are  his  hobby.  The  first  time  he  used 
an  electric  shaver,  he  was  in  despair  because  his  beard  wouldn't 
grow  quickly  enough  to  allow  him  to  use  it  again  the  same  day. 


i%. 


eiica'm'J^€ 


'^f^n^en-e/fi 


y 


Arturo  Toscanini,  72,  genius  and  consummate  craftsman,  most 
famous  and  highest  paid  living  conductor,  is  still  in  searcli  of  im- 
attainable  ideals.  Starting  with  a  new  supply  of  dollar  watches  (the 
gift  of  NBC's  John  Royal,  inarked  "for  rehearsals  only"),  he  al- 
ternately nms  his  nose  up  and  down  the  score,  stamps  his  feet  and 
flings  a  watch  to  the  floor,  shouting:  ''''Ignoranli!  IgnoranlV."'  Inde- 
fatigable, fanatical,  filled  with  contagious  enthusiasm,  vigor  and 
fire,  he  is  bending  and  blending  the  NBC  orchestra  to  his  will  at 
an  age  when  lesser  men  have  retired.  Not  happy  unless  work- 
ing, he  fli(-s  from  one  country  to  another,  was  unable  to  under- 
stand   the    lamcntal^le    lack   of   a   transatlantic    airplane    service. 


Eugene  Ormandy,  at  40  the  successor  to  Stokowski,  is  director  of 
one  of  the  world's  great  orchestras  and  the  envy  of  dozens  of  his 
colleagues.  He  attributes  his  rise  to  blind  luck,  good  breaks  and 
continuous  work.  Eighteen  years  ago  he  was  sitting  in  the  last  stand 
(jf  the  .second  vitjlin  section  in  Koxy's  Oapitol  'J  hratrc  Orchestra, 
liaving  arrived  shortly  bifore  from  his  native  Budapest.  Ten  years 
later  he  scored  his  first  success  at  Kobin  I  lood  Dell.  S.unc  season  he 
substituted  for  Toscanini,  against  the  advice  of  his  friends,  "simply 
Ijccausc  I  felt  I  knew  my  job."  After  five  years  in  Minnea])(jlis  he 
was  called  back  to  Philadelphia — this  time  as  regular  conductor. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACIUT>- 


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John  BarblrollI,  at  39,  is  the  likable,  much-debated  occupant  of 
what,  under  Toscanini,  was  the  nation's  most  spotlighted  conduc- 
torial  post.  In  the  three  winters  he  has  been  conducting  the  New  York 
Philharmonic-Symphony,  Barbirolli  has  developed  considerably, 
made  good  programs  and  many  friends.  With  his  men  he  tries  to  se- 
cure in  a  friendly,  companionable  way  the  end  he  desires.  He  is  en- 
thusiastic and  vital  about  everything  he  does.  His  creed:  "Integrity 
and  sincerity  to  yourself,  and  loyalty  to  the  man  whose  music  you 
are  seeking  to  interpret.  Never  think,  'What  can  I  make  of  this 
piece?'   but  try  to  discover  what  the  composer  meant  to  say." 


Serge  Koussevitzky,  at  65,  is  top  man  among  regular  conductors  of 
U.  S.  symphony  orchestras  and  the  only  conductor  who  consistently 
"sells  out"  Carnegie  Hall.  Fifteen  years  ago  he  came  to  Boston,  un- 
loosed a  flock  of  novelties,  fired  old  stand-bys  from  the  orchestra. 
"I  vant  yungk  blott!"  he  cried.  "If  dose  oldt  chentlcmcn  vant  to 
sleep,  let  dem  sleep  at  home !"  And  the  same  went  for  Beacon  Hill 
and  Back  Bay  dowagers.  Protest  as  they  might,  they  heard  what 
Koussevitzky  thought  good  for  them.  At  performances,  Koussevitzky 
strides  in  like  a  Boyer,  bows  imperiously — no  actor  covild  do  it  as 
well — and  lets  loose  his  excellent  version  of  what  music  should  be. 


